One More Murder
by inkwheels
Summary: Things have changed, and not for the better. Jane's main focus is Maura and revenge.
1. Chapter 1

****THE USUAL DISCLAIMER** - I don't own the characters of Rizzoli & Isles. No copyright infringement is intended. Jack is mine, however.**

**Author's note: There is an OC in this story and I want to make sure readers know that I have ZERO intention of pairing her up with Jane. There will be nothing going on between them, I can assure you.****  
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**The title comes from a song of the same name by Better Than Ezra.**

* * *

You ease yourself down onto your leather office chair while you've got one arm wrapped around your midsection and the other brings a fresh bottle of beer to your lips. You hope that it's enough to erase the day because it's been a long, exhausting and obviously painful one.

After taking a long pull of the cool amber liquid, you sigh and set it down onto your desk. You lean your head back and close your eyes. Thankfully, your office is dark, aside from the small banker's lamp on your desk, because you've got a mother of a headache brewing in your skull.

You curse the punk that inflicted the damage. All you wanted to do was get a information, and you did, but you didn't feel like getting kicked in the ribs or having a fist driven into your eye to get it.

Swallowing hard as you shift body in an effort to get comfortable, you can't help but let out a groan. It doesn't really matter. You're alone. No one can hear you. No one can fuss over you and tell you to go to the hospital to get looked at. But you miss that. You used to call it nagging but you'd give anything to have it back right now.

Once you settle down, the problem is the silence that follows. The silence opens up space to think about her and everything that's happened prior to this day, and you think about her often, maybe more often than you should.

Turning your head towards the window you watch beads of rain roll down the window, illuminated by the streetlight, and you think of her. _They look like tears rolling down her cheek_; you think to yourself but then become annoyed by the thought.

_Seriously, Rizzoli? You're letting rain remind you of her? God, you've gone soft or insane, or maybe both._

Your thoughts shift to the day everything turned to shit. Hell, there isn't a day that's gone by that you don't replay that day over and over in your mind. All the "what if's" and ways it could have gone differently. But the fact remains that you can't change it. It happened and it's sure as shit not doing you any good to keep thinking about it. But you do.

You see her tear-stained face staring at you as she confronts you about why you killed her father. In your mind, you're thankful she wasn't there to see it and you're glad the piece of shit is dead, given all he'd done to her emotionally. Unfortunately for you she didn't see it that way.

"How could you?" she asks you. Her voice is both broken and angry. Those beautiful hazel eyes are now ablaze with anger and it's a sight you rarely see and it scares you. Not scares you in like Leatherface coming after you with a chainsaw kind of scared but the concerned kind of scared.

She didn't seem to notice that your arm is covered in blood thanks to a bullet, albeit a graze, from her father's gun. Apparently whoever informed her of her father's demise left out all the important parts leading up to it.

You remember trying to defend yourself while it still burned away at you that this woman could even find it within herself to care about this scumbag who only until recently waltzed back into her life. And it ticked you off that she'd get this angry with you to begin with. It's not as if you just met. You would like to think she trusts you and knows you'd never do anything to hurt her physically or emotionally. But now you're not so sure.

"He tried to kill me, Maura." You pointed to your arm to snatch some understanding from her. Surely a bleeding wound would clear things up, right?

She shook her head and it pissed you off that she was going to continue to argue with you. "You've wanted my father dead ever since that day at the warehouse."

Your mouth dropped open and anger began to ignite inside your gut. "Are you fuckin' serious right now? Don't you dare try to imply that I killed him in cold blood."

"You've been working this secret investigation behind my back for months, so I'm told. You left in the middle of the night to hunt him down, Jane."

"Oh no. No. No. No. I don't know who's feeding you information but I did _NOT_ go there with the intention of killing Paddy. We got a call from someone that said they had info on Paddy's whereabouts. We went to meet him and when we got there we soon found out it was a set up. He was going to fuckin' kill us all, Maura. We were ambushed!" I stepped closer towards her, pointing my finger at the bloody trench Paddy's bullet made in my arm. "This is thanks to your father's bullet. If it wasn't for Detective Reed, that bullet would be in my skull and I'd be dead right now."

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly indicating to me that we weren't going to see eye to eye on this one any time soon. "You didn't have to kill him, Jane."

"C'mon, Maura, are you even listening to yourself? You weren't there. You didn't see what happened!"

A loud clap of thunder breaks you away from your stroll down memory lane. Your sore ribs bark at you as you flinch but you tuck it away and chug down the rest of your beer.

Closing your eyes, you chew on your bottom lip as you stare at the bottle. You're not really looking at it you're lost in your own thoughts once again. It doesn't take long for you to get mad and throw the bottle against the wall, watching it bust into a million pieces. Another grunt of pain escapes your lips but there's a hint of satisfaction there.

It's been so long.

One year, one month and four days to be exact. But who's counting?

You are.

You are because you miss her.

You love her.

You always will, no matter what was said that day.

Getting up slowly, you grab the last beer from the mini fridge; tossing the cap towards the barrel and hearing it ping onto the floor because you missed. You don't care.

Standing by the window, you look out at the wet city and look up at the starless sky. You remember that morning as if it were yesterday, the day that the remaining shards of your already shattered heart broke completely.

Your phone started ringing, sending the vibrating device skidding across your nightstand. Groggily, you reached over and grabbed it, still half asleep. "Rizzoli."

"Jane, its Korsak." The tone of his voice was somber and a tone you'd heard before when something was wrong. "I think you need to come here to Maura's house."

You shot up in bed at the sound of her name; all remnants of hazy sleep now history. "What? Why? What happened? Is she okay?"

"Just come as soon as you can."

You hung up, not even answering him because panic had consumed you with all its might. Your heart raced and you were nauseous with worry.

You remember breaking every speed limit as you tried to get to her house as quickly as possible. _Was she kidnapped? Was she injured? Was she ra…_you didn't want to think about it anymore.

There were a bunch of possibilities as to what had happened and playing the guessing game during your drive wasn't doing you any good.

When you pulled up to her house your jaw dropped as you saw what was left of her once beautiful home. "Oh my God," you whispered as you got out of the car, staring at the charred house. "No. No. No."

Your whole body went numb and then you started screaming. "Maura? Maura!". Screaming at the top of your lungs. The smell of burnt wood assaulted your nostrils and you could taste it in your mouth.

Korsak came running over, grabbing you by the arm as you tried to run towards the house. "Jane. Jane stop, you can't go in there. I'm sorry. It's too late."

You looked at him unsure of what he was really saying. "Korsak, no!" You desperately tried to push him away and struggled to free yourself from his tight grip. "I need to get in there. I…"

He resorted to something of a bear hug to keep you in place. "She's gone, Jane. The Fire Marshall is in there with his guys trying to figure out what happened."

You started to fall to your knees and he lowered you down. "No! Maura!" you wailed.

"Jane. I'm so sorry." He stayed with you for a few moments but was quickly called away to assist in securing the crime scene; leaving you alone.

You sobbed uncontrollably for who knows how long, no one was brave enough to get near you to attempt at consoling you. There was no point, really. Nothing anyone could do or say could change it and bring her back.

Sadness turned into anger and your mind became consumed with the reason why this happened. Your fist drove itself into the side of a cruiser but you felt no pain. Someone killed her, you knew it, and you bet it all tied to her asshole of a father.

You wipe away fresh tears, taking another sip of your beer as you sit back down at your desk. "God, Maura. This is so fucked up." You run your hands down your face, squeezing the bridge of your nose. "But I'm going to get revenge for you."

So here you are, alone in your office. In a way it felt good to say _your_ office, but it would feel a whole lot better if she was by your side.

Turning in your badge a year ago was a hard decision to make but you had to. Trying to investigate her death was like jumping rope with your hands tied; too many rules and too many people telling you to let it go. You knew that going out on your own would be the only way.

The few jobs you've taken on have kept the lights on and put food on the table. It's been a refreshing change to work on cases that don't involve death which lessens the stress in your life.

Putting your head down on your desk, you gaze at the clock and realize you should really be at home, icing your eye and getting some sleep, but the information you gathered today is huge. Adding it to the other pieces you've accumulated over the past several months puts you in a position to put _THE_ plan into action. But before your brain can process another thought, you drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

You crack an eye open and soon realize that you've spent a good few hours hunched over your desk. Straightening up, your ribs protest. They're not broken, and you've certainly broken them enough times to know if they were, but you still feel like shit.

You give yourself a minute before getting to your feet, swaying a bit as your brain grabs hold of its bearings. "Stupid punk," you mumble under your breath, cursing the kid that caused the damage.

All you wanted from him was information on where to get your hands on some jamming devices. Simple, but he decided to be difficult.

An old friend of yours had suggested talking to him but you didn't get a chance to tell him that until after he tried to bash in your ribcage. Instead, he freaked out, thinking you were still a cop.

After you were finally able to settle him down, he not only provided you with the devices but he started singing like a songbird with important and unexpected information – information that you'd tuck into your back pocket for later. You had too much to think about right now.

You didn't give up any info on what you were up to, even though you really wanted to after he started talking because you would have gotten even more dirt. But you had to be careful. Everyone knows everyone behind the scenes and a slip of the lip could prove fatal.

Still, what he said to you was shocking. After he found out you weren't part of the BPD anymore he began ranting about "pigs" and the names he was giving you were tied to Ian Murphy. They were names you knew well. But this new revelation would have to wait.

Blowing out a breath, you put your hands on the desk, getting your head in the right place before you even attempt to do anything else. You've been through far worse before, and this doesn't rank very high on your growing list of injuries. Nevertheless, it still hurts and it's distracting.

Laying low for a few days isn't an option, however. The next few days will be spent gathering supplies and finalizing the plan. You've got it all in your mind, but you need to fine tune it. There can't be any mistakes.

This is important.

This is for Maura.

You spend the next several days packing what you'll need, mostly cash, clothes and a variety of weapons. It feels strange to have such an arsenal but this is what your life has become.

This is war.

You've gone over and over the plan in your head for days so that you won't need to take any of your notes, photographs and outlines with you. The less you take with you the better.

Of course, you've also thought about what happens if things don't go as planned, but in your mind you're sure of yourself. You're Jane fucking Rizzoli and they're not going to get away with this. On the other hand, if you don't walk out of this alive, you don't care. Maura was everything to you and a part of you died the day she did. You've accepted the fact that if you were to die in the process it would be okay because at least you tried.

Tucking a photo of Maura into the inside pocket of your jacket, you zip it up and head outside to your motorcycle out front. You've always wanted one and after you quit the force you treated yourself to it: a blacked out 2013 Triumph Thunderbird Storm.

Putting on your backpack and then your helmet, you start the bike, taking a moment to take a breath and ready yourself for this now or never journey.

Flipping up the kickstand, you start it up and zoom down the street without looking back.

* * *

You park your bike a good distance away from the warehouse and make the long walk in the dark through a set of trees. The streetlights and moon light provide you with enough light to see where you're going, but it's the pending mission you're worried about most.

You go over the photos and blueprints of the building in your head as you approach the main gate, which you find locked. "This shouldn't be locked," you say under your breath. Each time you've come to the site it's never been locked. _Is Walsh even here?_ You begin to wonder. But without getting flustered by the setback, you focus and try to find another way inside.

A quick survey of the area proves that the only way to get in is to climb the chain link fence by the side of the building. Frowning, you see the barbed wire along the top of it. You take off your jacket and then your sweatshirt. Climbing up, you toss the sweatshirt over the wire so you can clear it without getting too cut up.

After making it over and off the fence, you take a moment to breathe and then quietly head for the building. Your goal is to get in and get out as quickly as possible. You've spent days watching this place to get the pattern of who's gone in, who's gone out and when. Walsh should be in there alone; Murphy and Kennedy already long gone. You'd take him out and get the other two later. Taking them all on at once would be suicide.

You chose the order of their deaths for a reason. Peter Walsh is the first to go because he's just a yes-man and a bully. Months of investigating showed he was at Maura's the night of her death and you can't help but pray he never laid a hand on her.

Killing Walsh sends a message and they will most likely scramble to find out who did it. They're well connected so you know you need to be a ghost.

Next up would be Tommy Kennedy. Your source said he was the one that lit the match. Of course, you had to beat it out of the guy to tell you everything; making threats you normally wouldn't make. But this is for Maura.

You told your snitch that if he breathed a word of your conversation to anyone, even a priest, you'd find him and kill him. You even went one step further and threatened to tell Kennedy that he was ratted out. The message was well received as you witnessed him piss his pants, but you didn't feel very confident that he wouldn't run his mouth if someone else gave him a pounding. That was the risk in gathering info and a risk you were willing to take.

Ian Murphy would be the last because he's the one behind it all. He's the lard ass that pulls the strings and had the biggest beef with Paddy.

After Paddy's death it became more than just a turf war. It became your typical cock fight between a bunch of heartless assholes over who had more control of stuff; stuff being property, guns, drugs and whatever else they could put their name on.

Murphy's gang wanted what Paddy had left behind but Paddy's men weren't about to give it up so they retaliated against Maura. The thought both saddens and angers you at the same time but you wipe the stray tears away and focus on the task at hand. This has to be done.

As you get to the edge of the building, you see only one car parked in front, just as you planned. You feel confident but cautious, your stomach becoming a bowl of butterflies. This would be your first intentional kill and that realization suddenly hits you. This isn't who you are but it is who you've become.

Pressing your back against the cool brick of the building, you take a moment to calm yourself down. Going in unfocused would get you killed and all of the effort you've put into this would all be for naught. That wouldn't be fair to Maura.

Reaching into your pocket, you stick a small device on the brick. The device should freeze all images coming from the cameras around the building. If someone is watching the cameras on a monitor, all they will see is a still photo so you can walk through undetected.

Sucking in a final deep breath, you walk to the main entrance and disappear inside as quietly as possible.

You're dressed in black from head to toe. A Halloween mask over a ski mask hides your face and leather gloves conceal your hands, keeping your fingerprints off of anything you touch.

With your gun drawn, silencer attached and ready, you make your way up the stairs to the floor where Walsh's office is located. The light is on, casting a beam out into the hallway. With quiet steps, you walk down the hall. While your footsteps won't give you away, the thumping of your heart against your ribcage might.

You get to the doorway and slowly lean over to peer inside. He's sitting at his desk surrounded by stacks of money. A bill counter flutters with hundred dollar bills and you breathe a sigh of relief because that will mask any noise when you shoot him.

You swallow hard and wait for him to finish the stack and then load another.

Quietly, you wait.

The machine turns off, he coughs and hacks, sucking on a stinky cigar, and then shoves another wad of bills into the machine. It hums to life and you waste no time. You swing around, aim at him and fire; hitting him in the face before he could make a move or even realize you're there. His fat body jerks backwards slightly before slamming his face down onto the desk.

You don't need to check and see if he's dead. A bullet through the brain is surely enough to turn the lights out.

A rush of adrenaline bursts through you and your hands start to shake as you tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans. Your instinct is to run and get the fuck out, but that would be sloppy and dangerous. You need to get out as quickly and quietly as you entered.

When you get outside, you get to the side of the building, drop to your knees and vomit. The release of emotions from not only what you just did but from everything you've felt since Maura's death is too much.

You allow yourself only a few moments to cry before you remove the jamming device from the building and tuck it into your pocket. Tears mix with the sweat that is literally pouring from your face under the masks, but you're almost done and try to stay strong.

After gathering your composure, you get to your feet and head back to the fence. Climbing up, you throw the sweatshirt back over the wire and swing your leg over. But just as you do, your foot slips out of the link and you fall sideways and sail downwards, landing hard onto the dirt below, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

Gasping for air, you hug your side and feel warm blood coating your hands. "Fuck," you swear as you get your knees and then to your feet. You look up and see the remains of your sweatshirt blowing in the breeze, caught on the wire. With a little difficulty, you climb up and pull it off. You don't want to leave anything behind.

Jumping down from the fence, you stifle a cry as it jars your wound. You try to look to assess the damage but it's too dark, it'll have to wait.

You make your way back to your bike and it feels as if the night is getting colder with each step. The sweat is making you too cold so you peel off the masks, shoving them into your jacket.

When you finally make it there, you shrug on your backpack and quickly start the bike, pulling off into the night.

After driving for about twenty minutes, you reach the state park. Driving your bike around the locked gate is easy enough and you make your way up to the top of the hill, pulling into one of the camp grounds used in the summer.

Grimacing, you get off the bike and toss your backpack onto the ground. Reaching inside your jacket you take out the picture of Maura, snuffing away a few tears. "I'm sorry that I'm doing this but it's the only way." Unzipping the front of your pack, you tuck the photo away.

You take off your gloves, jacket, pants and boots and toss them into the metal barrel sitting by the picnic table. Next to go in are the masks and your sweatshirt.

Digging into your backpack, you pull out a box of matches and strike one against the side, tossing it into the barrel. It doesn't take long for your clothes to ignite. The flames create warmth and unfortunately some light and now you get a better look at your wound. "Shit," you grumble as you look down at your t-shirt that's torn and bloody.

You pull out a new pair of pants, boots and jacket from your backpack and get dressed as you wait for your clothes in the barrel to turn to ash.

Using a wad of Burger King napkins from your pack you put them against the wound to sop up some of the blood. It'll have to do until you can get to the motel to clean and dress it properly.

You chuckle to yourself as you think of all the times Maura had scolded you over proper wound care. But the light-hearted moment doesn't last because you long for her caring touch. Even though you always protested against her fussing, deep down inside you enjoyed every fucking moment of it. You'd never admit it, of course. But maybe you should have.

Too late now.

Checking on the fire to make sure it's all out you poke all around it with a stick. Satisfied that it's snuffed out, you get back on your bike and head south.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone that's left a review, followed and/or favorited this story. I hope you're enjoying it so far!**

**A lot of questions have been asked and I'm sorry to say that I won't be answering any of them. You'll just have to stay tuned. :)**

* * *

By the time you make it to Marshfield it's almost one in the morning and it's started to rain; pour, really.

Thankful that you come across a CVS that was open 24 hours, you get the necessary supplies you needed along with some other random goodies so it didn't look like you're up to something.

You try your best not to show your pain to the cashier, or the blood coating your right side. You leave your gloves on because they conceal the dried blood all over your hands.

She rings up your things and it doesn't appear as if she noticed.

Grabbing the bag of supplies, you head to the motel where you pay cash for a one night stay. The manager doesn't think twice about it and assumes you're here for what everyone else is: drugs or sex, or both. You honestly don't care if he thinks this about you. You just want to lie down.

Your room is something straight out of an old horror flick but you honestly didn't expect much more. Tossing the bag onto the bed, you take off your jacket and then attempt to get your shirt off. A simple task on a good day has now become impossible so you resort to ripping it off.

Looking down at the wound makes you nauseous and you want to look away but this has to be done. At least the bleeding has stopped but what's left is a ragged, bloody mess. Reaching into your bag, you pull out the box of gauze pads and bottle of alcohol. Drenching some of the pads, you suck in a breath and press it against your side; biting your lower lip and whimpering as the warm burn consumes you. "Fuck!" It almost makes you pass out but you fight it.

For the next few minutes you clean it as best you can; or as best as you can stomach, and apply a fresh bandage around it, taping it down with shaky hands.

Your body gives out and it isn't long before you collapse onto your side and pass out.

* * *

When you come too, at first you're confused as to where you are. You're lying in an unfamiliar room and your side is throbbing something fierce.

Gingerly sitting up you look at your watch. It's almost one o'clock in the afternoon. Everything starts to fall back into place.

Wincing, you stand up, keeping a hand on the bed to steady yourself as you make your way towards the bathroom. Splashing cold water on your face, you look at yourself in the mirror and are taken aback by what stares back at you. Your face is pale, there are dark circles under your eyes, one is still black and blue…you look like shit. Good, you think, at least your face matches how you feel.

Gathering your things, you ease your jacket on and check around the room to make sure you didn't leave anything behind.

Turning your key in, you notice a diner across the street. Maybe some coffee will do you some good, right? You can almost hear Maura's voice in your head telling you otherwise; giving you a lecture about what you _SHOULD_ be eating, and none of it is what you'd want.

Even though it's across the street, you opt for driving your bike over because you'd prefer not to collapse in the middle of a busy street if you attempted to walk.

Once inside, you slide into a vacant booth and an older waitress is on you in seconds. "What'll it be?"

"Just coffee for now thanks."

She disappears behind the counter and you look at the placemat in front of you that doubles as a menu. The thought of food turns your stomach so you decide to see how the coffee goes before you attempt to put anything solid in your mouth.

"Here ya go. Just holler when you're ready to order."

"Thanks." You look up at her and she flashes a smile before leaving you alone. You wonder what she must think because you are already well aware of your appearance. But then you dismiss the thought because it's a diner located across the street from a seedy motel. You're sure she's probably seen far worse than your sorry ass.

"You look like you need some help," a voice says to you as a woman sits down opposite you. "You need more than bad diner coffee right now."

Your first thought is that you don't recognize her and your second thought is you want her to mind her own fucking business.

Swallowing hard, you gather your breath to speak while the hand hugging your midsection under the table slides over and clutches onto the butt of the gun inside your jacket. "Who are you?"

"There's no need for your gun." The woman looks around as if to make sure no one was listening before looking back to me. "I can help you."

"Who says I need help?" You grip the gun tighter.

She leans in closer to you, not that she needs to because you're the only ones in the diner besides two old men. "I saw you when you came in. You've got one hell of a shiner, you're white as a ghost and sweating and you've got a death grip around your side. In another five or ten minutes you're going to end up smacking your forehead on this table when you pass out."

Your mind starts to wonder what's really going on. Snuffing, you bite you bottom lip. "Who sent you?"

"No one." She sat back, her head tilting a little as she looks at you.

"Well, you're…you're mistaken. I don't need…help." With that, your wound stings and forces you to close your eyes while you try to get it under control. You mumble a string of expletives under your breath and your jaw clenches as the pain intensifies.

"Uh huh. Sure." The woman stands up and puts her hand on your arm. "Come on." Leaning down closer to you, she whispers. "We don't need to make a scene. Just come with me." Her voice is quiet and sincere. "Please."

She's right, you need help and you have no other choice at the moment. You can't help but recall a time when you could turn to Maura for help when you were hurt and now that option was gone. The thought makes your heart crumble.

With some effort, you get up out of the booth and do your best to straighten yourself up. "I'll put a bullet in your brain if you're fucking with me," you warn through gritted teeth, tossing a ten on the table.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says as she wraps her arm around yours and leads you out to the parking lot towards her car.

You struggle to free yourself from her grip. "No. I'll follow you."

"Understandable, but you're really in no condition to…"

"Then fuck off. I didn't ask for your help anyway." You bend forward a little as more pain creeps up on you. "Shit."

"God, you're gonna be a handful," she says as she leads you away from your bike and towards her car, easing you down into the passenger seat. Good thing because you pass out seconds afterwards.


	4. Chapter 4

You wake to find someone dragging you into a room and you're not quite sure what's going on. "What the fuck? Where…where am…"

"Shh. You're okay. You're safe."

You make an effort to fight against her but soon find yourself curled up in the fetal position on the floor. "Son-of-a-bitch." For some reason you think it's a good idea to hold your breath. Maybe that will stop the pain?

She kneels beside you, putting her hands on you gently. "No, don't hold your breath. Just breathe really easy. Try and relax. Your wound opened up again so I need to you stay still."

She gets up and brings over a large black case, setting it down next to you. "You don't have to tell me but I figure I'll try and ask. What's your name?"

You look at her as you nearly chew a hole through your bottom lip. "You're right. I don't have to tell you."

She ignores the comment as she unwraps a bunch of gauze pads, ripping the corner of the packets open with her teeth. "I need to have a look."

"No. Just leave it. You shouldn't have brought me here, wherever here is." You make an attempt to get up but your efforts are clearly wasted. You're not going anywhere.

She puts her hand on your arm. "You've already lost a good amount of blood and I want to make sure you don't lose even more. In order to do that, you need to let me look at you." She places her hand on your forehead. "You've got a fever and I think it's safe to say that it's infected. Now, if you don't want it to get worse AND don't want to go to a hospital then I suggest you let me take a look."

Licking your dry lips you sigh and roll over onto your back. "Fine."

She moves your blood-stained hands away and makes quick work of lifting your shirt, un-wrapping the bloody bandages. "Hmph. I thought for sure I'd see a bullet wound under here. A knife would have made a clean cut. What did this?"

You keep your eyes closed against the pain as she pokes and prods. "Tried to climb over a chain link fence…with barbed wire. Foot slipped. Fell over and tore the shit out of my side."

"Did you fall from the fence onto the ground?"

"Yeah."

"Your ribs hurt?"

"No. Just hurts to breathe because of the damn gaping wound in my gut."

You feel her pushing around your ribs just to make sure and you grunt in pain. "Thought you said they didn't hurt."

"Didn't think they did until…you started…pressing on them. Old injury. Nothing to do with last night."

She laughs. "Wow. You're a glutton for punishment aren't you? I don't think any of them are broken but they're definitely bruised. The wound is long but it's not that deep. The bad part is infection. I need to clean it all out."

"Just…just get it over with."

She smiles at you and pats your shoulder. "I'm not barbaric. I'll numb the area before I do it."

You glance over at her kit that has all kinds of supplies in it. "Got your own little hospital there."

"Yep," She offers nothing more than that.

She soaks a wad of gauze and dabs it around your wound. "Do you want some Morphine? I can give you a small amount just to take the edge off."

Anger rushes through you. _What is she trying to do? Maybe she knows what you did? That's crazy. How could she? But can you take that chance?_

You sit up slightly and grab a handful of her shirt. "Don't you fucking knock me out."

She's unfazed by you. "It's a small amount. It'll just relax you so I can stitch this up. I'd like to try and do it as cleanly as possible. Similar to the one you've already got there," she says as she motions to the scar from the day you had the bright idea of shooting yourself.

You slowly release the fabric of her shirt that's balled up in your hand. "Just a little."

She loads a syringe and holds it up. "See, a small amount."

"Let me see the bottle."

Holding it up, you can see Morphine typewritten on the side. "Okay." You look away from your arm as she taps the crook of it to find a vein. You gasp slightly as the needle breaks through the skin and the warmth spits itself into your system. It isn't long until the pain subsides a little.

"I know better than to ask what trouble you're in," she says as she cleans out your wound, trying to make small talk.

Your eyes roll around in your head a little. "I'm actually not the one in trouble. Looking for people that caused it."

"I see."

"What's your story?" You figure her talking will distract you from the pain.

"Let's just say that I've become someone I never thought I would."

"Is that good or bad?"

She shrugged. "My life went in a different direction than I'd planned. I had an important person in my life and a bunch of assholes took him away."

She starts to sew up the wound and you look away. It's either that or throw up all over her.

"They killed him and one of his friends. I…I tried everything to save him." Her eyes dampen with tears.

You know all too well how that feels. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Finishing up with the sutures, she clips the stray ends and then wipes them down with an alcohol swab. "He was a good man."

She tapes a bandage over the wound. "There. You should be good but you'll need to stay still for a few days. I'm gonna give you some antibiotics to help get rid of the infection." You can feel her touching the scar. "What happened here?"

"A run in with a dirty cop."

She nods at me. "I figured you were a cop. It's why I offered to help you. A close friend of mine was a cop. He and my fiancé saved my life so I try to pay it forward." She pulls the hem of your shirt down, frowning at the bloodstains. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. I can give you a t-shirt to wear later." She helps me to my feet and holds on tightly as you stagger to the bed.

"Thanks for helping me," you mumble through your Morphine haze.

"How's the pain? I can give you more to get you through the night if you'd like."

You shake your head. "What you gave me will be fine. I just need to rest for a few hours and then I'll be on my way."

She laughs at me as she packs up her medical kit and slides it under the bed. "You're a tough one, aren't you? You really need to stay put. You're going to feel like shit when you wake up."

"Can't feel any worse than I already feel."

She walks over and crossed her arms across her chest. "I can tell by the look in your eyes that you're not just talking about your wound."

You look away from her but she's onto you. "Maybe."

"Get some rest. I'll check on you in an hour or so." She gets up from the bed and heads for the door.

"It's Jane."

Turning back, she looks at you.

"My name is Jane."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jane. I'm Jack." She smiles at me and shuts the light off. "I'll be in other room. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks."

The door closes with a soft click and you start to relax. It's only seconds and you're asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** Thank you to everyone that's taken even the slightest interest in this story.

* * *

It's dark when you wake. You feel cold but you're covered in warm blankets. That's the fever talking.

Pushing the covers aside, you painfully swing your legs off of the bed and put you left hand over your side before getting to your feet. The sudden shift in blood flow makes your jaw clench as a fresh wave of pain grips you.

After it passes, you slowly get to the door and take a peek out into the hallway. Walking out into the hallway, you hold onto the wall for support as you make your way towards a room at the end of it. A warm glow of light is coming from it.

When you make it there, you find Jack sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. "I knew you wouldn't stay put for very long," she says without turning around.

You gingerly walk towards the couch and ease yourself down on it. "Yeah, well, I've never been a very good patient."

Putting the book down that she's reading, she reaches over and touches your forehead and cheeks. "You're still warm but not as bad as a few hours ago." She looks at her watch. "I can give you another dose of antibiotics in a little bit."

"Look, I appreciate what you've done for me but I really need to get going. If I could just get my stuff and we can go get my bike, I'll be on my way."

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about your bike, it's in the garage. I had a friend go and…"

"You told someone I'm here? Who did you tell?" You start to panic and try to get up.

Her hands are on you quickly, keeping you seated. "He's a friend. He has a trailer and towed it back for you."

"What if tells someone I'm here. Shit. I…I can't stay here."

"Whoa. Whoa. Easy." She moves closer to you, tightening her grip on your arms. "I don't know what's going on with you but you don't have to worry about Teddy. He's the former cop I mentioned. I trust him with my life."

"He's gonna ask who's bike that is."

"He knows not to ask me questions. Let's just say that there are a lot of times, like this, where my guests require a lot of…privacy."

Wiping your hand across your sweaty brow, you feel a little less panicked.

"I didn't want to leave your bike there not only because of what you have going on, and obviously it's something because who gets cut up on barbed wire, but because it's a brand new bike and thieves would have taken off with it. It's a beautiful bike."

You relax a little and sit back. "Thanks. I've wanted one for a long time and…I was always told they were too dangerous."

"Cars are my weakness. I'll show you my collection sometime."

"Collection?"

She smiles and nods. "I've got seven."

"Seven?!" You think of all the hassles of driving in the city and you only own one car never mind seven.

"I told you it was a weakness. I've got a red and white '56 BelAir, a black '69 GTO, a black 1940 Ford Rat Rod, a red '08 350Z, a custom painted flat black Bugatti Veyron Sport, a red 2013 Ferrari F12 Berlinetta and a 1958 Plymouth Fury that I'm in the process of restoring to look like the car from the movie 'Christine'."

"Wow. That's some collection."

"The BelAir and GTO were my dad's. I never take them out except on his birthday. I'd hate for anything to happen to them. They were his pride and joy. The Rat Rod was Sean's."

She got up from the couch, putting her book on the cushion. "He and I rebuilt it together. It was his dream to finish one and bring it to the local car shows to show it off." She pauses for a moment. "He never got that chance."

She paces back and forth a few times. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss him. I think I miss him more because he was taken from me."

You look away from her. "I know the feeling." Your voice cracks with emotion.

"Let's get you something to eat. You'll feel better after you do." She leaves the room, leaving you alone to your own thoughts.

Moving back a bit, you settle yourself on the comfortable cushion and try to relax. But you can't. Your mind focuses back on your plan, the plan that has taken a detour sooner than you thought.

Picking off Walsh was easy because he's a nobody, just a fat ass bully. You knew that Kennedy might prove to be a little more difficult and if an injury were to occur it would be then, but you didn't plan for it now. This wasn't how it went in your head and that pisses you off.

By now they've found Walsh's body and are scrambling to find out who did it. Meanwhile, the clock continues to tick on taking out Kennedy and Murphy.

You original plan had you taking out Kennedy tomorrow night, but now that's changed. "Goddammit," you swear in frustration, running your hands through your hair.

"You okay?" Jack asks as she comes back into the room with a mug and small plate.

"Yeah," you groan.

"I didn't cut the crust off, hope that's okay." She smiles at you and hands you the mug.

You laugh slightly. "Yeah, it's fine. Thanks."

She motions towards the mug with a flick of her chin. "There's chicken broth in there." Moving the book, she sits back down on the couch next to you. "After you get all that in you I'll get you a Gatorade to chase it all down."

Taking a few bites of the sandwich, you sigh heavily. "I'd kill for a beer."

"Yeah, well, maybe later. Let's get past the fever and then we'll talk about hoisting a cold one."

Silence hangs in the air as you nibble at your food and she throws another log onto the fire.

"So where are we, exactly?"

She straightens up, wiping her hands on her jeans. She's an attractive woman, medium length brown hair tied back in a ponytail, brown eyes and very fit. If you had to guess, you'd say she was in her mid-thirties.

"That's not fair," she says politely.

"What?"

"You've gotten a lot more info from me than I have from you."

You nod because it's true so you decide to take a chance and offer up some information. Your mind sifts through itself, trying to pick out something to share.

Jack sits back down on the couch beside you. "So I know you're a cop and…"

"_WAS_ a cop, turned in my badge over a year ago."

"Why?"

There it was that heavy question that came with an answer that was saturated with Maura. You debated about answering it but before you can talk yourself out of it your lips are moving.

"Some things happened. It was all over the news so I couldn't really escape from it. It had to be done."

"Refresh my memory."

"Paddy Doyle…"

"Wait. Wait a second." You can see her trying to fit the pieces together. "Rizzoli? Are you Jane Rizzoli?"

You nod.

"No shit. I remember the story about his death on the news. You were like a big time hero."

"A hero to some but not everyone. My girlfriend was Dr. Maura Isles and as you probably know, Paddy was her father."

"Were she and Paddy close?"

I shook my head. "No. Their history is a long story but she was mad because I killed him." Without realizing it, your hands curl and become fists. "He shot me and a couple other officers. One of them saved my life by pushing me out of the direct path of that bullet. I didn't plan on killing him when we went there."

"You were defending yourself. You were a cop, that's how it goes."

Looking down at your hands you rub the scars. "I just wish Maura could have seen it that way."

"So what happened between you two?"

"She…she um…she…she died." You swallow hard, trying to get that lump in your throat to go away.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."

You smile slightly. "It was almost nine months ago. Her um…her," you clear your throat of the emotion that's lodged there, "house burned down. They claim it was faulty wiring but I don't buy it."

"Is that what this is all about?" Jack asked as she motioned towards your side. You look over towards her and her eyes are wet.

You nod. "Yeah." It comes out more like a croak than a word. "There are a lot of people that hate Paddy and lots of shit happened after his death. They got to her, I know they did." That was it. You couldn't stop the tears at this point and end up burying your face in your hands, sobbing. It hurts your side but you don't care. You're crying in front of a total stranger but you don't care.

Jack slides an arm around your shoulder. "I know what it's like and I know how you feel." Now she's crying.

Nothing is said for a few minutes and then you feel like you need to break the silence. "Wow. What a pair we are." You slide your sleeve across your eyes to wipe away the tears.

She laughs and does the same. "I know, right."

You look over at her. "I really do appreciate you helping me."

She gets up and then kneels in front of you. "You're welcome. Speaking of that, I need to change your bandage and check your wound."

Leaning back, you watch as she pulls up the hem of your shirt and peels away the tape and bandage. Sneaking a look at the wound you instantly regret it, hissing at the sight.

"Sorry, I'm trying to be as gentle as possible."

"No, it's not that. It just looks disgusting."

She pokes at it, making sure the stitches are holding. "It looked ten times worse a few hours ago." She stands and pats your knee before pointing a finger at you. "Do not move."

And you don't.

When she returns she has a handful of items and sets them down on the floor.

"Where's your big medical suitcase?"

She laughs. "That's only for emergencies. I think it's safe to say that you are no longer in need of what's in that case."

"So are you a doctor? How'd you get all this stuff?"

She makes quick work of cleaning up the wound, wiping away the little bit of blood that had seeped out through the tight stitching. "Not really. I went to veterinary school for all of two minutes and then stuff happened and I got derailed for a while. It's become my part of my line of work I guess. It's changed me."

You let her words simmer in the air for a few moments.

"For the better?" you ask.

She puts on a fresh bandage and tapes it down neatly. "Yes and no," she says matter of factly. "Yes because I've been able to help people. No because I've become very good at lying to people I care about in order to protect them because they don't need or want to know what's going on here." She pulls your shirt back down and smooths out the wrinkles nervously. "I've pretty much lost everyone because of it. So I'm here in this gigantic house alone."

"Gigantic? How big is this place?"

She smiles and collects the bandage wrappers, squeezing them in her hand as she stands. "Six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a wine cellar, indoor pool…"

"Ahh. I see what you mean."

Jack tosses the ball of wrappers onto the side table by the couch and sits back down. "This place is Fort Knox. We're isolated here. I've got a security system designed by a genius and I have everything I need."

"Where'd you get this place?" You ask. Now you want a full tour.

"It was my grandfather's house. He was somewhat of a paranoid man and had it built here to get away from everyone. I put my own touches on it over the years." She gets up and reaches her hand out. "Come on let's get you back to bed. You can have the grand tour after you get some more rest."

Grabbing her wrist she helps you up and back to your room. The pain is starting to come back and she notices it.

"Here." She hands you two pills. "One is the antibiotic and the other is Tylenol with Codeine. It should help the pain so you can rest."

You take them without protest.

"No getting out of bed, got it?"

"Got it."

She leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Now you need to figure out a new plan.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, you make your way to the kitchen and find her making breakfast. "I didn't want to wake you, you needed the rest," she says as she glances up.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and lowering yourself on a chair by the breakfast bar.

"Quarter of eleven," she answers as she slides a plate of bacon, eggs and toast towards you along with a mug of fresh coffee.

"Such hospitality here, I may never leave." You pick up your fork and dig in. "Unfortunately after I eat this I have to."

She sips her coffee and looks at you. "I know I could never talk you into staying for another day or two just to make sure you're stronger. I realize you've got 'things to do'."

You nod and swallow your food, wiping your mouth on a napkin. "I need to get back to my office and figure things out."

"When you're finished, there's something I want to show you," Jack says as she digs into her own plate.

"So tell me more about Sean."

She smiles and chews, waiting a few seconds to speak until she swallows. "He was my fiancé. I met him about fifteen years ago when I was running with a really bad crowd." She takes a sip of her coffee. "I was a thief. I'd steal anything that wasn't tied down." She chuckles lightly. "I was damn good at it.

He and Teddy saved my life one night when someone tried to take me out. We were at a concert and when we were walking through the parking garage, someone tried to run me down. They pulled me out of the way just in time. It was after that that I realized I couldn't do it anymore."

"When was he killed?"

"Ten years ago. Someone still held a grudge against me and instead of killing me they ended up…" she stopped for a moment, clearing her throat, "killing him and his friend Manny. We were on 495 coming back from a friend's birthday party. It was late, two in the morning. Someone rear ended us and we ended up rolling over."

"Oh geez."

"We skidded off the highway and hit a tree. The impact was all on his side." Tears begin to roll down her cheeks. "I tried everything I could to get him to hold on." She wiped the tears away. "For the longest time I thought that if I'd only stayed in school I would have had more medical knowledge and could have saved him. Instead, I chose to make a quick buck off of other people's stuff."

"We all carry our own regrets in life."

"His injuries were just too severe. And Manny, he was ejected. He died on impact, which in a way I'm thankful for because I didn't want him to suffer like Sean did." She picked at her plate and then slid it away. "Didn't seem fair that I was the one they wanted dead and I walked away with my life, a dislocated shoulder and a broken arm."

You reach out and pat her arm.

She wipes more tears away. "So here I am in this big house, helping people who need it in order to make up for that day. They never caught the person that caused the accident, so I want to help people seeking justice."

A lump formed in your throat and no matter how much you tried you couldn't get it to go down.

"Come on," she said, motioning for you to come with her. "I want to show you something."

You follow her down the hall and into a huge library. Numerous floor-to-ceiling shelves house a countless number of books, both old and new.

She sees you looking all around in amazement. "The majority were my grandfather's. He hardly ever left the house so he read a lot, as you can see."

Jack walks over to a shelf and pulls on one of the books. Stepping back, the shelve slides forward and then sideways to reveal a hidden passage way.

You follow her into the dark void and into an elevator. She inputs a code into a small device and then it scans her thumbprint. The door closes and the elevator begins to descend.

"Okay. This feels like an episode of Alias or something."

She smiles and the door opens, revealing a room full of computers, monitors, and all sorts of tech equipment.

"Holy shit," you exclaim as you slowly walk into the room, taking in everything around you.

"Welcome to the computer lab. Down here I can monitor anyone anything anywhere anytime. I have the capability to hack into just about any computer system in the world and no one would even know." She sits down at one of the computers and types away at the keyboard. "I can access all sorts of files." She hits the enter button and your BPD photo and file comes up on all the monitors in the room.

The sight takes you aback for a moment. "Okay, hold on. Did you tap into my file…"

She holds up a hand. "Relax. I didn't. I only did it just now because you're here."

"Not that I have anything to hide. It's just…it feels weird to be on the other side."

Jack gets up and motions towards you. "Come this way." She leads you across the room to a door that has two keypads on the side of it. She taps in multiple codes and the door opens.

You follow her inside and your eyes widen. "Whaaaaat the…" The room is full of weaponry. Anything you could ever need for a war was in this room. "Where did…"

"Don't ask because I'll never tell you."

You look around the room, looking at every gun, every knife, every rocket launcher…it's endless. "Is this your way of preparing for the end of the world?"

She laughs at you. "No. Everything down here is what brings justice."

The cop in you wants to haul her in for questioning to find out who supplied her with such an exorbitant amount of weapons.

"I can help you. I can help you seek that justice for Maura."

Hearing her say her name whips your head around in her direction. You shake your head. "No. This is my fight. I don't want to get you involved. Besides, all this…I shouldn't even be looking at this."

"I'm already involved. While I still don't know what happened, aside from tearing yourself up on some barbed wire, I know that you did something. As soon as word gets out about what you did…"

"It won't," you snap.

"The media will…"

"No. They won't. They don't want their business out in public. They're good at covering shit up and keeping things quiet. That's what will happen."

Jack looks at you silently for a moment. "What did you do?"

You had to give the girl credit for holding off this long in asking the question.

"I told you, I don't want to get you involved. I know you've helped me and like I said I really appreciate it, but…"

She moves closer to you and puts her hands on your forearms. "I _WANT_ to help you. Something tells me that this is bigger than you expect and you need some help."

You move away from her touch. "Are you saying I can't handle it? You don't even know me."

"No, I don't, but I've been around long enough to get a good read on things and if you're talking Paddy Doyle then you're talking mob. Now, correct me if I'm wrong but the mob runs deep and dirty and you're one person. You can't go in all guns blazing and take them out. It's crazy to…"

"One down, two to go."

That comment quiets her.

Biting on your bottom lip you start to get antsy. "Let's go back upstairs. I need to get dressed and get back to Boston."

You both walk back to the elevator and take it back upstairs in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

You make it back to your office, anxious to get back in the game. The rain slowed you down and it took longer than you expected.

Jack sent you on your way with a burner phone, an untraceable Glock 9mm and the promise that you wouldn't reveal her hideaway, not a problem there. She was a little pissed that you wouldn't let her help, but this was your fight.

Easing yourself down onto your desk chair, you sigh heavily as you toss a pile of mail onto the desk. Your mind wastes no time in getting back on track and you wonder what the buzz might be over Walsh's death. In fact, you thought about it the whole ride back.

You can't ask around in fear of exposing your secret. Too many questions would be sure to raise more in your direction. You could, however, make a stop at Lucky's Lounge and see if you could pick up some info there. Given that you grace the place with your presence at least a few times a month it won't be too out of the ordinary to be there.

But nevermind Walsh, you had to start over, form a new plan to take out Kennedy. As much as you want the fucker dead, you want to stay alive long enough to get to the big prize – Murphy. Your plan has to be just as good, if not better, than the first.

The more it simmers in your brain the more you realize that waiting might be the best option. You're in no shape to go anywhere all guns blazing anyway so you decide to wait and give yourself at least two weeks. That'll give you time to gather intel, create a plan of attack and execute it.

Squeezing the bridge of your nose, you wince as a headache begins to brew in your skull. Before you can reach into your desk drawer for some Advil, you hear the bell to your front door jingle and feet stomping across the hardwood floor towards your office. The paranoia living inside you makes you grab your gun as you stand up – your heart hammering away in your chest.

"Jane! Where the HELL have you been?" your mother scolds you as she storms into your office and slams her giant pocketbook down on your desk. "You don't answer your phone, I come by and you're not here. I…" she looks closer at you and gasps, "Jane, your eye. Why do you have a black eye?" she asks as she heads straight for you.

You wave her off. "Ma. Stop. It's fine." Her hands cup your face and you wriggle away, doing your best to hide the wince that your side caused.

"I have been worried sick. I've called you I don't know how many times. You can't answer your phone just once to talk to your own mother? Where have you been for the past two days?"

If she only knew.

You sit back down onto your chair. "Ma. You know that I'm a one-man-show here and that I have cases to work on. I've been busy." You would never offer more information than that, especially to her.

Her arms folded themselves neatly across her chest and her eyes began to narrow. "What are you doing to yourself?" She motioned towards your eye.

"It's part of the job, you know that."

"Jane. I thought you said that being a Private Detective would get you out of harm's way?"

You tilt your head and shake it. No words you can say will ever make you see eye to eye on this topic.

"You've consumed yourself with work ever since Maura died."

Your head snaps up so fast it nearly falls off your shoulders. "What did you just say?"

"Come on, Jane. You haven't given yourself even five minutes to grieve for her. You never talk about it and you spend more time here than you do at your apartment. It's not healthy. It's been too long and…"

Now you're on your feet because the subject of Maura is a sore one, and for good reason. "Don't you dare come in here and bring that up just because I didn't answer my Goddamn phone when you called. This is _MY_ life, Ma, _MINE_." You jab your finger into your chest for extra emphasis. "I don't want to talk about Maura's death and I don't have to. There's nothing I can say that will ever…bring her back or make it all go away." Your voice sounds like glass breaking and you hate every second of it.

"Oh Jane," she says as she reaches out to you but you pull away.

"Just go, Ma. Leave me alone."

She stops short of grabbing you anyway and you can see the hurt in her eyes. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. If you won't talk to me about it then talk to someone and get it out so you can move on."

"Who says I haven't?"

"Jane. I'm your mother. I know you better than anyone." Her voice was soft and like a white flag waving as a symbol of peace.

"Ma. I…I can't. Okay. I'm not ready."

She didn't say anything at first because she knew damn well that doing so would only make you lash out. "Just promise me you'll think about talking to someone."

You nod just to pacify her.

Reaching out, she grabs your face and kisses your cheek; running her thumb over the bruise on your eye. "Oh, my baby. What am I gonna do with you?"

"So what were you looking for me for?"

"Tommy and Lydia are in town and needed a ride from the airport. You were the closest so I called you."

"Sorry, ma."

"It's okay. Frankie ended up getting them." She wipes away a stray hair from your forehead. "Come to dinner tonight and get a good meal in you. When's the last time you ate? You look pale." If she only knew that was a result of blood loss and not lack of food.

"I dunno, I got a ton of work to do on this case and…"

"An hour, that's all I ask of you."

You sigh heavily. "Okay."

"Fantastic!" Her arms wrap themselves around you and squeeze causing you to grunt.

"Ow, Ma! Not so tight."

She gives you another kiss and finally backs away for good. "Five o'clock, don't be late."

You flash a small smile despite the fatigue and pain that has saturated you. "I won't."

She seems content and leaves your office, the front door bell jingling to tell you she is indeed gone.

Slumping down onto your chair, you press your hand to your side and chew on your thumbnail as you begin to plan out your evening. An hour or two at your mothers and then hit Lucky's late. The later the better because that's when guys are good and drunk and mouthy.

Reaching into your desk drawer you pull out that bottle of Advil that you've been longing for. Downing two pills dry, you close your eyes and wish the pain away; both physical and emotional.

* * *

You arrive at your mother's right on time. If you didn't you'd never hear the end of it and you don't have the energy for the argument.

Setting your helmet down on the table by the door, Frankie is the first to greet you with a gentle hug. "What happened to your face?"

"You should see the other guy," you joke. "How you doin' little brother?"

"I'm good. Ya know we miss you at the precinct." He pats your shoulder lightly; his words are sincere.

You pat his arm in return. "Thanks, bro."

"Jane!" your mother calls out to you from the kitchen. "Come help me with the garlic bread!"

You roll your eyes and smile as you head for the kitchen, passing the dining room on the way. "Hey Tommy, Lydia." Sitting in a high chair is your nephew and you immediate turn to mush. "Teeeeeeejaaaaay." He giggles and it melts your heart.

"Can you say hi to Auntie Jane?" Lydia says to the one year old as if he was actually going to say it.

Kneeling down, you give him a kiss on the cheek and take in that innocent baby smell. "You're getting so big," you say in a weird voice that makes him giggle more. "What's your daddy feeding you, huh?"

"Beer," Tommy says.

You throw him a look. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Come on. I'm Just kiddin'."

"He better not be giving you beer," you tell TJ. You bite your bottom lip as you painfully stand up.

"Jane!"

"Ma, I'm coming." You groan and walk into the kitchen. It looks like the last supper has been prepared based on all the pots, pans and plates. "How many people are you feeding?"

She stops stirring a pot of sauce and looks at you. "What? I want to make sure you all have plenty of leftovers to take home, especially you, Little Miss." She motions towards the oven. "Take the garlic bread out and slice it up. There's a basket above the…"

"Fridge. I know." Taking out a knife from the drawer you get to work.

* * *

As dinner wraps up, your mother starts to clear the table while everyone makes small talk.

Across from you, Tommy and Lydia are fixated on the baby. Tommy's trying to get TJ to make animal sounds which seems to get more enjoyment out of Lydia than their son.

Frankie takes a sip of wine as he nudges your elbow. "You hear about one of Murphy's guys?"

In a matter of seconds your mouth feels like you've swallow a mouthful of sand and a knot forms in your gut. "No," you all but whisper.

"Someone took him out a few nights ago. There's big time rumbling downtown because you know he's got a bunch of cops in his pocket."

"Which one was it?"

"Walsh. No loss there, if you ask me. Someone got him right in the head. Boom," he said as he made a mock gun with his fingers.

You grab your glass of wine and take a couple of sips. "That's crazy."

"I only heard bits and pieces from the guys. Sounds like Murphy and his gang have gone into hiding."

You can't help but laugh. "Aw, are they running scared now?"

"I think that's what they want it to look like. I think they know who did it and they're waiting to strike."

A wave of nausea hits you and you do your best to swallow it down. Getting up, you excuse yourself and then head for the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

Gripping the sink, you breathe heavily as you try not to throw up. Maybe cold water will help so you splash some on your face as you get your breathing under control. Looking into the mirror, you almost cringe at the face staring back at you – she looks like a complete stranger.

Dabbing at your face, you finally calm yourself down and win the battle, for now.

_Fuck_, you think to yourself. _Do they know it's me that killed him? What if they do? What if they don't?_

You exit the bathroom and grab your jacket from the banister before going into the kitchen to say good-bye to your mother.

"Janie, are you leaving already? I didn't bring dessert out yet."

You pat your stomach. "I'm full. I can't eat another bite. I'm gonna head home and get some sleep." Leaning over you give her a kiss.

"Here," she says, putting a stack of Tupperware containers in your hand. "You'll have dinner for the next few nights."

"Thanks, ma."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

Heading into the dining room you say good-bye to Tommy and Lydia and then Frankie walks you to the door. "Everything okay with you? Why'd you run off mid-conversation?"

"It's a female thing," you say, knowing that he won't press you for any more information. That topic works every time.

He puts his hands up in front of him. "I don't wanna know."

You give him a hug. "It's good to see you. Tell the gang I said hello."

"You should come by sometime. I know Korsak would love to see you. He still talks about you all the time."

Picking up your helmet, you tuck it under your arm. "I will at some point. Just need to finish up some cases."

"You sure you're okay?" he asks you as you open the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll talk to you later." You give him a smile before you head out but it's fake. You're positive he knows it but there's nothing you can do about it.

Climbing onto your bike, you start to re-think your plans for later this evening as that annoying knot begins to grow again in your gut.

It isn't until you get about three blocks away from your mother's house that something suddenly takes hold of you and the knot slowly unravels and disappears. "Fuck it," you mumble to yourself. You're going. You've convinced yourself that doing nothing will only lead to more worrying; the fear of the unknown.

You spend the next hour cruising around town before you pull up to Lucky's. Checking your watch as you get off your bike you see that it's almost eleven o'clock. It's not horribly late but all the working stiffs are gone by now and the riff raff should remain.

Sucking in a breath, you blow it out slowly and enter the lounge before you have any chance of talking yourself out of it. Even though you had your mind set by the time you pulled up, actually being here made the doubt creep all over you.

_When did you become such a pussy_, you ask yourself as you head for a booth in the corner so you can observe the room.

Sliding into the booth, you toss your jacket and helmet onto the seat beside you.

"Detective Rizzoli, well I'll be. Haven't seen you in foooorever."

You hear the female voice and immediately look to your left. "Officer Kendall."

She motions towards the empty seat across from you. "May I?"

You really want to say no but you can't. "Sure."

"I just got back from maternity leave so the guys took me out for a few. They all left but I'm still holding on strong," she said as she lifted her bottle of Bud.

You could tell she'd had one or two too many and now it was going to be hard to shake her. "Well, welcome back."

She takes another swig from her beer and then looks down at the table. "Where's yours? You need beer. Hey! Hey, Sally, get Detective Rizzoli a beer, on me." Her annoying voice booms across the room and cuts clear through the music from the jukebox and the voices from the guys playing pool near-by.

You want to correct her and tell her you're not a Detective anymore but that will only prompt more conversation.

"Oh my God, I love this song," she says as she smacks your arm. "Dance with me."

Without hesitation you shake your head. "No. I'm not big on dancing and…"

"Oh come on! It's Bananarama. You _HAVE_ to dance to Bananarama, it's like a law or something."

The waitress comes over and sets down a bottle of Bud in front of you but before she can walk away you motion towards Kendall. "Can you call her a cab? I think she's had enough."

"No problem," she says as she goes back to the bar.

Kendall reaches out and grabs your wrist. "Come on! Let's go dance!"

You pull back and grab hers instead, pulling her towards you as you lower your voice. "A cab is coming to pick you up and take you home. You shouldn't be dressed in your uniform acting this way unless you want to go in tomorrow to clean out your locker."

She looks at you, surprised by what you had to say and for a moment you thought she was going to burst into tears. But her face soon turned to anger as she yanked her hand away. "Fuck you, Rizzoli. You're no fun."

You were about to continue to quiet her but looking over her shoulder you notice two men enter: Jimmy Littleton and Terry Foreman. Each had ties to both Murphy and Doyle and you never knew what side of the fence they were playing on on any given day.

Kendell stormed off and you were thankful for it. You didn't have time to babysit her.

While picking at the label on the bottle, you watch as the two men went to an empty pool table across the room. Both men are overweight and are smoking cigars, a habit that has always annoyed you. There was no doubt that you could out run them but if it turned into a gun fight your odds of winning decreased dramatically.

Picking up your jacket and helmet, you move to another table to get closer to them. The TV above the bar will serve as a good cover so you don't have to look at them but can still listen.

Two hours pass and the only information you get was how Jimmy had sex with two hookers the previous night and that they both weren't happy with how the Celtics were playing.

You toss a couple of bills onto the table as you get up to leave. There's no sense in staying because if something was going to happen it already would have.

"Detective Rizzoli," one of the men said as you shrug on your jacket. "I thought that was you."

Looking over you realize its Foreman talking. "Terry. Jimmy."

"Isn't it a little late for Boston's finest? Oh wait, you're not Boston's finest anymore." He bursts into a hearty laugh and Littleton joins in. Both men are very much overweight and their fat bellies jiggle like Santa Claus.

You smile and toss them a fake laugh and then your famous Rizzoli attitude rears its ugly head. "I figured you two would be here tonight. Everyone with tiny dicks drink free."

Littleton laughs at the comment but Foreman's smile fades to anger. "Fuck you, Rizzoli. Whatzamatta, couldn't cut it on the force after your girlfriend burst into flames, eh?" The smile returned to his fat face and you want so desperately to shoot it off.

Your blood began to boil and you grab a pool stick sitting by the side of one of the tables. As he continues to laugh it up with Littleton, you casually walk closer towards him. "Yeah. That's funny," you say sarcastically.

"It's too bad because she was one hot piece of ass. I bet she did you…"

Before he could say another word you had his face planted against the felt of the table and the stick pressing down on the back of his neck. With a tight grip around his wrist, you pinned his left arm behind his back.

Littleton's gun came out and you could hear the safety click off without having to look up.

"Get off me, Rizzoli," Foreman choked out.

"Are you nuts, Rizzoli?" Littleton asked. "You want a bullet? Huh? Cuz you've got five seconds to get off him before I fuckin' give one to you."

You look up at Littleton and shoot him an icy glare before moving off of Foreman and chucking the stick to your left.

"You've got some set of balls, Rizzoli." Foreman rubbed the back of his neck.

"Wish I could say the same about you."

Littleton stepped forward and jammed his gun up under your chin as he grabs a handful of the front of your leather jacket. "Watch yourself, Rizzoli." You smile at him which seemed to only piss him off even more. With a quick shove, he pushes you away and tucks his gun back into his jacket. "Get the fuck out of here, bitch."

Extending your middle finger, you salute him and then exit the bar. The rush of adrenaline almost makes you dizzy as you climb onto your bike and drive off into the night. If they had suspected you of killing Walsh you would be dead right now, but you're not and the thought breathes new life into you. You feel cocky as all hell but try not to get too carried away.

Foreman just added himself to your list, albeit the bottom. That fat fuck would pay for how he spoke about Maura but his day would have to wait.

You can't help but smile because they have no idea you're coming for them.


	8. Chapter 8

You spent the next week gathering information and Frankie was right, they'd gone dark. You couldn't find anything on Kennedy and it frustrated the hell out of you. Every avenue you tried lead to a dead end.

After much debate, you find yourself outside of a large iron gate. It's cold and it seeps right through your leather jacket, sending a chill up your spine. Punching in a code you wait a few seconds and it slides open.

You drive your bike up the long driveway and pull into the garage, parking next to a handful of gorgeous cars. Jack appears inside and greets you, her arms folded across her chest. "I thought you didn't want my help," she says jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah," you say as you take your helmet off and shake out your hair.

"Come on," she says as she waves towards you to follow her. "To the Bat Cave!"

You can't help but laugh as you follow her down into the bowels of her estate, still in awe of the amount of equipment she has at her disposal.

"Okay," she says as she sits down at one of the computers. "Give me some names to run and we'll start there."

You sit silently for a moment.

"What's the matter?" she asks you.

You sigh and plop down onto one of the chairs. For some reason the words are there but they just won't come out.

She moves her hands away from the keyboard and turns her full attention towards you. "Look, I get it that you want to do this alone, trust me. I know what it's like to feel angry and see nothing in front of you but revenge. But based on the little information you gave me and the fact that you asked for my help, it means this isn't petty shit. We're not looking for guys that stole a six-pack from the local packie." Jack pauses for a few seconds. "How deep do you want to go?"

"Two more, for now."

"More?"

You nod. "I told you 'one down, two to go'." I already got one so he doesn't matter anymore. Tommy Kennedy is the next in line. He's umm….he's the one that lit the match at…at Maura's."

Jack lowers her head and then raises it back up. "I'm sorry."

You wave your hand and shake your head, dismissing the topic because you really don't want to talk about it. "Run him and see what comes up."

Turning back to her keyboard, she types quickly and within seconds there's a mugshot of Tommy up on the large monitor in front of you.

Still typing, Jack starts to talk through what she's thinking. "I'll run his credit and debit cards to see if there's been any activity recently and then we'll go to his phone."

You chew on your thumbnail as you stare at the photo. You look at his eyes and hope that when you two meet he'll feel even more pain than Maura felt that night. You hope that he begs you not to let him die but you want to see him take his last breath.

The computer beeps a few times. "Nothing on the cards. Last activity was two weeks ago in Chelsea. He's got two phones. One was last used a week ago and the other was a month ago."

"Dammit. What about his addresses? I only know of two places: one in Revere and the other in Lexington."

"Let's see." Her fingers flew over the keyboard with ease and determination. "What've we got here? I've got one other home, 59 Rogers Field Way in Clinton." A few more key strokes and a satellite map came up on the screen.

"Good. I'll start there. I'll sit on the place for a few days and…"

"Hold on," she said as she typed furiously. You watch her pull various things up and sift through the information like a pro. Within a few minutes she has a series of video feeds up on the monitor.

"What the…"

She smiles and crosses her arms over her chest, proud of herself. "This is a live feed from his house. I tapped into the database of all the local security system companies and then hacked his to pull up a feed from whatever cameras he has on the property."

You can't help the smile that begins to form on your face. That's something that hasn't been there in quite some time. "Looks like I came to the right place."

"Yeah, you did. I'm pretty awesome," she says with a smile and a wink.

You stand up and start to pace as you start to form a plan. "Okay, let's keep an eye on him for a few days, if he's even there. We'll see who's coming and going and when, see if there's a pattern."

"If he is there I'm sure he's got some muscle with him." Jack shrugs. "Doesn't matter. We can take them out."

"_WE? _You mean me." You correct her just to be clear.

She laughs slightly. "You can't go in there alone. That would be suicide."

"You said it yourself that you understand that I want to do this alone."

"Yes, I understand that you do BUT I didn't say that you _SHOULD_ do it alone. I'm not saying that I'm going to take away your moment of justice, I just want to help you get in there in one piece so you can, that's all."

Running your fingers through your hair you close your eyes and try to see it her way. She is right, and you know it. "Fine. What's your plan then?"

"Unfortunately, or in this case fortunately for you, I've done this several times. First we find out how many. The house isn't huge so I doubt there will be more than three guys there. Then we find out where they are and if their locations are consistent. We have to take out all of them because if we only take out two, that third guy could come around and find the bodies."

"Do you have tranquilizers? I don't want to kill them. I'm only there for Kennedy."

Jack nods. "I've got plenty. We're in and we're out so we don't need a heavy dose for each one. They should be out cold for an hour, max."

"Okay." You sit back down and watch the monitor with the camera feeds: the driveway, pool, front entrance and back entrance. There isn't anything going on, just a still image of each location.

"You hungry? This is gonna take a while. I was thinking about running out to get a pizza."

"If you get extra pepperoni then I'm in."

"You got it. I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks."

Sitting back in your chair, you watch the screen hoping that the bastard is there.

You've played it out in your head a thousand times – his death, that is. You're ready. You know exactly how you want to do it and you can't wait to watch his life slip away right before your eyes.

Tucking the thought to the back of your mind, you focus on the screen and wait.

* * *

After hours of nothing, you get up to stretch and then you start to pace out of frustration.

"Anything?" Jack asks as she slides her chair over.

"No," you say, clearly agitated. "It's almost seven o'clock. You'd think he'd…"

"Wait a second. Someone just pulled into the driveway."

Quickly, you turn around and look at the monitor. A large black Cadillac Escalade has pulled into the driveway and three men get out, including Kennedy.

"That's him, getting out of the back on the right." Your stomach twitches in anticipation of this lead.

You both watch as the three men go inside the house and then see them on the interior shot of the entrance way.

"He's only got two lumps with him. That should be easy."

"There's one problem," you say. "We have no idea of the layout of the house. Can you pull up the blueprints of the house from the contractor or a real estate agent or something?"

Jack shakes her head. "Couldn't find them, but I have an idea. I'll go to the house and pretend to be from the gas company. I'll tell them there was a report of a gas leak in the area and will need to check each room of the house." She takes out a pair of black rimmed glasses and holds them up. "There's a camera in here. This will record everything I see so we can go through it and form a solid plan."

You drop down onto a chair and sigh.

"What? I thought this was all good news? We're heading in the right direction."

"I know. And it is. But I'm gonna throw a wrench into the plan."

Jack just stares at you. "Oooookay?"

"I thought a lot about this this afternoon and I think that I need to take out Murphy right after Kennedy." You brace yourself for her reaction.

"Oh my God. Are you crazy?"

"Hold up, let me explain why. They all scattered when I took out Walsh. The same thing is going to happen when I take out Kennedy. The problem is, the longer I wait to get Murphy the more defenses he's going to mount up. Hell, I'm surprised Kennedy's only got two guards on him.

"It's just like a video game. You play all the little guys but it leads to the big boss and it gets harder and harder as you go along. I can't take on Murphy and ten or fifteen of his men and neither can you. I wouldn't ask you to."

Now it was Jack's turn to sigh. "I hate to say this but you're right."

"We need to find Murphy and synch the plan to include both of them in one night. Murphy won't have a chance to see it coming."

Jack drummed her fingers on the desk as you could see her thinking it over in her head. "Let's start by finding out where Murphy is." She turned around and started typing on her keyboard. "What's his first name?"

"Ian. Last I heard he was living in Charlestown."

Jack was silent for a few minutes as she typed away at her keyboard and was finally able to pull up some information on the monitor. "He's got a bunch of places he could be: Charlestown, Malden and Hyannis. And then he's got three warehouses: Dorchester, Quincy and Fitchburg." She shook her head. "I dunno it might be tough to pin him down."

"Do a search on Terry Foreman. He's got an alias of Butchie Foreman. That fat fuck could lead us right to Murphy." You leave out the bit about you going to Lucky's in an attempt at getting some information.

"Is this him?" she asks as his chubby mug appears on the screen.

A scowl forms on your face. "That's him. Let me tail him for a few days and see what I can get. In the meantime, you can watch Kennedy's place and see who's coming and going and hopefully we'll find a way to get this done once and for all."

Jack pushes herself away from the computer. "What are you going to do when it's over? Have you thought about that?"

"Not yet. I want to focus on getting it done first. I'll worry about what I'm going to do later." You stand up and shrug on your jacket. "This is more important. I owe it to Maura to do this."

"I'll call you if anything comes up," Jack says.

"And I'll do the same," you say as you head for the door.

"Rizzoli?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

"Always," you say as you open the door to leave.

* * *

**Author's note**: Thank you again to everyone that is following this story and/or leaving a review.


	9. Chapter 9

Following Foreman around after three days was boring as hell but doing so paid off. You followed him to the warehouse in Fitchburg where the two met outside in the parking lot and then went inside.

Pulling out your burner phone, you call Jack.

"Hey, any news?"

"He's with Murphy right now. I'm in Fitchburg. I can't put a tracker on his car because I don't know who's watching. The lot is pretty big and it's surrounded by a bunch of buildings. It's too risky. I'll just have to tail him after he leaves here. What about you, anything new on Kennedy?"

"Nothing. Same two guys watching from the front and back. He's pretty boring for a mob guy. He's in bed by eleven o'clock every night."

You look across the lot and see Foreman coming out of the building with a large cardboard box. "Shit, I gutta go. Foreman just came out so maybe Murphy will be leaving soon."

"Okay, I'll touch base with you later."

"Okay. Bye." You tuck the phone into your jacket and watch as Foreman loads the box into the back of his truck. He then climbs into the driver's seat and drives away.

Waiting has never been your strong suit, and today is no exception. You want Murphy to come out and make this easy. It's cold and your stress level is through the roof. But aside from a guy coming out to smoke a cigarette, Murphy's going nowhere.

Minutes turn to hours as you start to shiver from the cold. Even though you've got your car instead of your bike, it's just as bad as being outside. Running the motor might cause unwanted attention. You're far enough away but you're not taking any chances.

Three and a half hours pass and Murphy emerges from the building. He gets into a silver Porsche and quickly speeds off.

After about thirty minutes, you watch him pull into a long driveway at a home in Havard but you can't follow him to see where the house is.

Digging out your phone you call Jack.

"You get anything?" she asks.

"I'm in Harvard. Myrick Lane. Not sure of the number but he just pulled into a long driveway and I can't follow him."

You can hear her typing on her keyboard. "I'll have to ping your cell to get your location because there are a lot of houses on that street. Gimmie one sec…got it, number 8. Pulling up a satellite map right now. Yeah, long driveway is an understatement. Totally secluded. Lots of trees surrounding it." She was silent for a moment. "Strange. This address didn't come up for him. Let me do a background check on the home and see what I can come up with."

"Okay. I'm gonna head back to my office because there's nothing else I can do here. I don't want to hang around too much longer and tip anyone off."

"Sounds good. I'll call you later."

After you disconnect the call you head back to your office.

* * *

Later that night, Jack calls you with information on Murphy's home.

"The house isn't in his name so I don't know if it's even his. The deed belongs to a McKayla Voronovich, the daughter of a Russian billionaire. I've tapped into his security system as well so I can see what's going on."

"Alright. Let's sit on both of those feeds for a few days. In the meantime, you'd have to do the gas leak routine to Murphy's house to. I'd do it but he knows who I am."

"Not a problem. I'll head out there tomorrow and then we'll meet up to go over the layouts. I'll call you tomorrow night."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Talk to you later."

You toss the phone on your desk and run your hands across your face. "Oh, Maura. I'm so sorry that this is what I've become. But there isn't any other way." Opening the top drawer of your desk, you take out a small framed photo of her, running your finger across her cheek. "I miss you so much." A single tear runs down your cheek.

You spend the next few days going over and over your plan of attack on the two men. With the layouts of each home, you carefully choreograph your every move. You've spent countless hours on it and are confident you can carry this out, but there's no doubt a part of you that's scared shitless.

Tomorrow night you strike and tonight, well, you aren't going to get any sleep.

* * *

**Author's note: Short chapter here. I'm hoping to post another soon. Things are going to start to heat up so stay tuned! Thanks to everyone that's taking the time to read this craziness.**


	10. Chapter 10

You quietly approach the driveway of Kennedy's home, waiting for the bodyguard to come out and make his sweep of the front. Meanwhile, in the back, Jack is doing the same for the guard that covers the backyard.

You're not concerned with the security cameras because you know that no one is monitoring them like they were at Walsh's warehouse.

Checking your watch, you count down: 3…2…1…the front door opens and the man comes out, flashlight in-hand.

As he goes towards the side of the house, you follow behind him, raising the tranq gun and firing a dart right into his neck. He groans, spins around and reaches for his gun but before he can do anything with it he hits the ground – out like a light.

You quickly grab the flashlight and turn it off, tossing it into the bushes. Then you grab his arms and pull him towards the side of the house where it will shroud him in darkness.

Touching your ear, you activate the comm device. "Guard 1 is down."

You wait a few seconds for Jack to respond.

"Guard 2 is down. You're good to go. I'll meet you two blocks down."

"Roger that."

You enter the house through the front door and quietly walk up the carpeted stairs towards Kennedy's bedroom which is at the far end of the hallway on your left.

The hall has a small amount of light in it thanks to a nightlight. It doesn't matter, though. You know exactly where you're going.

You get to the bedroom door and the adrenaline rush begins. Your hand touches the doorknob but starts to tremble so you let go. Fucking this up and making noise will surely be the end of you so you take a second to get your shit together.

After a quick inner monologue, you put your hand back on the doorknob and slowly turn it. Leaning into the door, you open it and then pray that it doesn't squeak.

Thankfully it doesn't.

He's lying in bed, face up and snoring. Part of you wishes you could just light the asshole on fire but you need this to be done without attracting attention.

Grabbing a pillow from the chair beside the bed you walk closer towards him. Closing your eyes for a moment, you suck in a deep breath and then slap his face.

He wakes with a start, disoriented and confused. "Wah…wah…what the fuck…"

"Shut up, asshole." Now you're straddling him. "This is for Maura," you growl at him before shoving the pillow downwards over his face. He starts to claw at your arms and tries to knock you off of him but you clench your legs against him and hold on tightly. It's like riding a bull. He's bigger than you and stronger, but you have the upper hand here and you bear down on him with everything you've got. You nearly bite through your bottom lip as you keep the pillow over his face and ignore the fight he's putting up. He's no match for you tonight because you're a mixture of emotions, a heavy dose of pissed off.

After a minute or so, his arms flail uselessly and then hit the bed with a thud. He's motionless but you stay on top of him, smothering him for another minute to be sure.

Content that he's dead, you remove the pillow and his cold dead eyes stare up at you. You want so desperately to spit in his face but you don't want to leave anything behind that will give you away.

You return the pillow to the chair and walk towards the door. "Burn in hell, motherfucker."

Sliding the door closed, you leave the house just as quietly as you entered it.

Walking a few blocks down, Jack pulls up at the stop sign and you quickly get into the car. You pull off your mask and realize you're covered in sweat.

"You okay? Everything go okay?"

You lean your head back against the headrest and feel like you're going to hyperventilate, the stress of the night finally catching up to you.

"Hey. Hey. It's okay," Jack tries to assure you.

You nod and wipe the sweat out of your eyes. "He's dead. Never saw it coming."

She pats your leg. "Just hang on. One more and then you can move on."

Turning your head to look out the window, you wipe the tears from your eyes.

* * *

When you get to Murphy's house the two of you gear up and get ready. There are more guards to take out than at Kennedy's. Even though you've been through the plan a thousand times, the butterflies in your stomach are punching you over and over.

"Ready?"

You nod. "Yeah."

You both make quick work of disabling the guards on the outside of Murphy's house and then make your way inside for the second layer.

After they are put to sleep, Jack peels back and allows you to go in for the kill.

Your nerves are on overdrive and as you make your way upstairs you pray that your legs don't betray you and give out from underneath you.

You can see the bedroom door open even in the darkness. Your heart hammers away in your chest as you get closer and closer to your end goal with each step.

As you quietly make your way inside, getting your gun ready, your stomach drops to your feet.


	11. Chapter 11

"Fuck," you mumble under your breath before quietly making your way around the room to the closet. Your grip tightens around your gun as you slowly open the door and then put your back up against the wall, figuring that if he was in there he'd chose that time to make a move.

Nothing.

The darkness makes it hard to see anything and there's no way you can turn a light on so you toss a kick at the rack of clothing. But that's all you hit is clothes. Murphy's nowhere to be found.

Your heart pounds in your chest and your brain scrambles for your next move. It's almost impossible to think straight but you soon realize you need to take a moment to relax and think about the layout of the house. You pull up the info in your head and decide to check the other two bedrooms down the hall.

Entering the first of the two, you find nothing. Just as you're about to enter the second one you hear Jack's voice in your ear.

"You okay in there? Where the hell are you? You should have been out by now."

You can't answer her just yet because if he is in this bedroom you can't risk giving yourself away.

"Can you hear me?"

Scanning the room you find nothing. "I'm here but he isn't," you whisper. "I'm on my way out." You waste no time high tailing it out of the house and jumping into the car as Jack pulls up.

"What the fuck? He's not there?" Jack asks, as if you really need to repeat it.

"No, he's not." You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. "This is all fucked up now. Those guards are gonna wake up and then he'll know something's up." You slam your fist down on the dash.

Jack presses her foot on the gas a little harder. "The warehouse," is all she says.

You shake your head. "I don't know the layout of the warehouse."

"Then _WE_ will have to do it together. I've got everything we need in the trunk."

* * *

It was just after midnight so there weren't many cars on the road, thankfully. If you had to guess, Jack had you traveling about a hundred miles an hour. But while she might have been driving fast, it felt like forever until you reached the warehouse.

Jack parked in the lot of another building and the two of you got out. She opened the trunk and there before you were a handful of weapons from her giant stash.

She hands you two leg gun holsters that you quickly strap on and fill with two Glocks that she also hands you. "Here's a 9mm to tuck in your back and a Beretta to use as your main gun. Put this on." She gives you a vest that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. "It's bullet proof and filled with goodies. On your right you have explosives and on your left you have stunners." She holds up a small dart. "Toss this like you would a game of darts. Aim for any exposed skin and they'll be out like a light for a good 24 hours."

"I'm not even gonna ask what's in it."

"Probably best you don't." She puts on a similar vest and checks her ammo stock. "I'm gonna let you lead once we're inside. I just want to make sure you can get in. You've come this far and I don't want to see you go home empty handed."

You smile at her and pat her shoulder. "Thank you."

You stealthfully make your way to the warehouse but as you get closer, you see two men lying on the ground out by the entrance.

"What the fuck?" you whisper.

Jack points up towards the building. "Two cameras in front. We gutta take them out before we get any closer," she whispers. "I'm gonna shoot a jammer which will buy us only about fifteen minutes." Aiming carefully, she launches one between the two cameras. It sticks to the brick and a tiny red light turns on and then goes green. "We're good. Let's move."

You reach the two men and check their pulses. They're dead. Blood pools around them from what looks like single gunshots to the chest. Your stomach turns to cement and an uneasy feeling surrounds you.

"Dare I say that something's not right here?" Jack says as she looks around the area. "Come on."

You follow her to the entrance. She peeks her head inside and finds another camera. Shooting a jammer into the stairwell, the green light illuminates and you both head up the stairs.

Another body is lying in the hallway.

Just as she starts to walk down the hall, you grab Jack's arm. "Get out of here. This is my mess that I've stepped in. You've already done more than enough for me."

"I can't just leave you here. Something's fucked up and…"

"Go," you growl as you pull her closer. "Wait for me outside."

"Rizzoli I…"

"You said I've only got about fifteen minutes until those cameras come back on so you're wasting time. GO!"

She grabs your face and shakes you slightly. "I want you coming out in one piece, you hear me?"

You put your arms on her wrists and squeeze. "I will. Now go."

Jack takes off and you start to walk down the hallway towards a large room. It's filled with crates, boxes and barrels of God only knows what. It's dark, aside from a few small lights scattered throughout the room.

You make your way through the rows of pallets towards the center of the room; your hands are wrapped around your gun so tight you know your knuckles are white as a ghost inside your gloves.

As you get closer towards the clear area you crouch down, using the boxes as a shield. But the sight before you makes your mouth drop to the ground. Murphy is sitting in the middle of the room, tied to a chair and obviously beaten severely.

Swallowing hard, you make your way towards him, keeping your gun trained on him the entire time, just in case. Checking his pulse your shoulders slump as you don't find one. "Fuck," you swear under your breath. You're somewhat relieved that someone else did your dirty work but at the same time you're on edge because that someone could still be here. Time to move.

"Yeah, he's dead," you hear a man's voice echo throughout the room before you even have a chance to take a step.

Your head whips around to find out where it's coming from.

Foreman appears, his gun aimed at you. "What's the matter, Rizzoli? I beat you to it?" Before you answer he waves his gun at you. "Get on your knees and slide your guns over here."

You slide three of them over to him, keeping the one behind your back.

"If that's not all of them you're going to regret it."

"It's all of them." You sneer at him, disgusted just by looking at him.

"Take that vest off and toss it over here."

You don't move. Giving up the vest leaves you at a huge disadvantage.

"I'm sure it's bullet proof. Do you want me to test it and see?"

You swallow hard, sliding it off, tossing it in the opposite direction.

He laughs. "Always the wise as huh Rizzoli? Now put your hands behind your head."

"Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

He walks closer to you. "You know it's funny, someone took out Walsh and saved me some time. Since you're here, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

You shake your head in defiance. He most likely doesn't know about Kennedy yet and he doesn't seem to know that his guards are fast asleep. "I don't know what you're talking about. I came here to talk to Murphy."

"_TALK_ to Murphy. Uh huh." He takes out his cell and dials. "Hey, it's me. We've had an interesting turn of events. I'm bringing a visitor to the house. I'll be there in about a half hour."

"Lemme guess, you were talking to that meathead Littleton."

He walks closer to you and punches you in the face, instantly bloodying your nose. Reaching down, he grabs a fistful of your jacket and hauls you up, jamming his gun under your chin. "You'd be smart to shut the fuck up, Rizzoli. This could get real bad for you if you don't cooperate. You have more to lose than you think."

You can't resist the urge and spit in his face. "Fuck you." Reaching behind, you grab your gun and aim it at him, pulling the trigger, hitting him in the arm.

Foreman stumbles and presses his hand to the wound. "You bitch!"

You use this moment to run and he starts to fire at you. Bullets splinter the wood on the crates around you sending splinters flying, biting into your skin but you continue to run towards the exit.

More bullets narrowly miss you as you run down the hallway towards the stairwell. Your feet take the stairs at an incredible pace and you see the door ahead of you.

"Give it up, Rizzoli. You're not getting out of here," his voice echoes from behind you.

You get to the door, push in the handle and it won't open. You can hear him coming down the stairs so you fire your gun towards him, hearing the bullets ping off the metal railing.

"I locked this place down, bitch. Gutta love modern technology."

You fire another bullet before heading down another hallway on the first floor, but when you get to another door that too is locked. You bang on it with your fists in frustration and then put your hands on your knees as you breathe heavily.

You hear him walking towards you and you fire several more times. Then you hear a click. Great. Your gun is empty.

He appears out of the darkness. "No more bullets, huh. That's too bad."

You toss the gun to the floor and your mind races to figure out what to do next.

He walks closer towards you and you wait for him to take one more step before you crouch down and go at him by his legs. His gun goes off and you feel the bullet zoom past your head.

You get him on his back and struggle to get the gun away from him but he's strong. Another bullet is fired and this one just misses your side. He's getting too close for comfort so you punch him in the face, feeling his grip loosen on the gun and you seize it, quickly pointing it at him.

You move off of him and stand up. "Roll over and put your hands behind your head."

He laughs at you. "You're a feisty one, Rizzoli."

"Shut up and roll over!"

He stays put and continues to laugh.

You squeeze the trigger and aim for the floor beside his head. The gun clicks and nothing happens. _Are you fucking kidding me_, you think to yourself.

In a flash he's on his feet and now you're the one on your back. He punches you hard in the side, a direct hit to your recovering wound, and you instantly curl into a ball.

Reaching down, he grabs a handful of your shirt and pulls you up towards him. "You know, at first I was gonna kill you but now that I'm the king in these parts, what with Murphy and Paddy gone, I think I need to build my army. As much as I hate you, you're good. You cut through the guys like nothing. Who's working with you? I want them, too."

Guess he knows about the guards.

"No one," you say in barely a whisper.

"Stop fucking with me. You came in here like Rambo. Who is it?"

Your eyes roll a bit from the pain. "I told you no one."

He punches you again in the side and now you feel blood.

"WHO?"

"Fuck you!"

"No. Fuck _YOU_." His fist connects with your face and everything goes black.


	12. Chapter 12

You wake up to the feeling of movement. When you open your eyes you soon realize you're in the back of a cargo van.

You start to get up and find that your hands are cuffed tightly behind your back. If there's one thing you hate most it's the loss of control.

"Oh, looks who's awake," Foreman says to you as he looks at you through the rear view mirror. He takes a sharp corner and sends you crashing against the side of the van, slamming your shoulder and rattling your teeth. He laughs at your pain.

"Fuckin' asshole," you mumble under your breath.

"Try to get up again and I'll shoot you in the kneecap. The choice is yours, Rizzoli."

You stay put but soon remember that Jack was outside waiting for you. _Maybe she's following you? She's got to be, right?_

Sitting up, you try to look out the back window but they're tinted so dark you can't see anything.

After a few more minutes the van comes to a stop and immediately the door slides open. "Take her inside," Foreman says to the two goons that roughly grab your arms and haul you out of the van. They take you inside a dilapidated house, bringing you downstairs into a cold and dark basement.

Shoving you onto a wooden chair, you look up at the single bulb above your head that sways back and forth. It's the only light in the room so there isn't much of it.

"Tell Littleton to give me about five minutes," Foreman says to the two that dragged you in here. He takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves as he stands before you.

With the two men now out of the room, you resist the urge to get up and tackle him like a linebacker – not yet at least.

"Looks like you've got a little boo boo," he says as he motions to your side. You look away from him and don't answer.

He takes his gun and nudges up your shirt, exposing your bleeding wound. "Ouch. I didn't do that just by punching your sorry ass. Someone or something got you good." He frowns and moves away. "You know, I gutta hand it to you. You really do have some big balls for a broad. It's a shame that you and I aren't on the same page, but we will be shortly." He shakes his head as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Why Maura, that's what I want to know. What the fuck did she ever do to you that would make you kill her?"

He puts a finger up to his lips. "I'm the one talking, not you. But I can understand your frustration of not having that hot piece of ass around." He smiles and licks his lips. "You know she's got that birthmark on her inner left thigh that…"

"You son-of-a-bitch," you growl as you launch out of your chair and tackle him, just like you tried not to do a few minutes ago. You both fall to the ground and you quickly wrap your legs around his neck and start to squeeze.

"Hh..elp!" he tries to call out to his muscle men. "Ge…get her…offfff me." His face turns the shade of a tomato as you squeeze. You're hoping to hear the snap of his neck but you don't because all the flailing around and commotion he's caused has now sent the two goons back into the room.

One kicks you in the side so hard that you swear you see lightning bolts. Your legs loosen and he pulls you away from Foreman who is coughing and struggling to find his breath as the other goon tends to him.

"Get…get her in…that chair…tie her to it."

You growl almost like a caged animal, fighting against the two men that are roughly pinning you into the chair and binding you to it.

Foreman winds up and punches you right in the eye, sending a swirl of stars above your head. He follows it with another and you feel your skin split and blood start to trickle down the side of your face.

"You bitch. Another move like that," he whips out a gun and shoves it into your gut, "and I'll put a bullet in you." Spittle flies from his mouth and hits your face. "You think you were hot shit shooting yourself a few years ago, well I'll match it if you so much as move."

The two men stand on either side of you, almost as if waiting for you to make a move.

You don't. You're too busy trying to keep your head from spinning and from passing out.

"I'm going to give you two choices. Either you work for me or I can kill you right here and dump your sorry ass into the harbor."

"Kill me then. You already took what was important to me so just fucking do it already." You hang your head and watch the blood drip onto your thigh. The rest of it pounds between your ears as your face starts to throb.

Foreman wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he's still trying to recover from your tackle. He motions to one of the men. "Go up and tell him to get down here and bring the prize."

The man disappears and you look up at Foreman. "Stop prolonging this and just pull the damn trigger."

He shakes his head as he paces. "I never saw this situation coming, I'll give you that. But since it's come to this, I'm going to give you a little incentive to work with me. Plus, working for me keeps you out of my fuckin' hair."

After a few minutes, Littleton enters the room. He's dragging someone along with him but you can't see because it's dark. He shoves the person down onto the ground by your feet and your heart nearly lunges out of your chest. "Maura?"

She looks up at you with tears in her eyes. "Jane." Her voice sounds so incredibly broken. Her face is pale and there are bags under her eyes. She looks tired and her eyes can't seem to focus which makes you think they've been drugging her, and God only knows what else.

"Wh…what…I…I thought you…"

"I needed her," Foreman said. "Who would know Paddy's deep dark secrets but his own flesh and blood. Not to mention who would get all that money. So I faked her death and tossed some pigs a couple of bucks to overlook the fact that the body they found wasn't Dr. Isles. It's funny how your brothers in blue will do anything when it comes to the almighty dollar." He reached down and patted her head like a dog. "Work for me and I won't kill her."

Honestly, you'd rather die than work for this scum of the Earth.

"She's come in very handy. Of course, I've had to coerce her a little here and there, isn't that right, baby?"

Your jaw clenches and you try to get up, even though you're bound. "You fucking asshole. I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands. Untie me and you and I will go at it until one of us is fucking dead and it _WON'T_ be me! You lay another fucking hand on her and…"

He motioned to one of the goons and he punches you hard in the side, instantly shutting you up. The pain almost makes you throw up.

"Jane!" Maura slurs.

You can't catch your breath and you feel as if you might pass out but you fight it. You fight every second of it for her. You came into this ready to fight for her but now that she's here in front of you you're going to fight even harder.

"Aw, what's the matter, Rizzoli? You mad that your girlfriend and I played doctor. She's really good at…"

That was it. You totally lose your shit and lunge for him again, spitting in his face. The rope pulls against the chair and digs into your wound but you don't care.

He shoves you with his foot and your chair topples over, sending you crashing down onto your side.

"Stop!" Maura pleads. "I'll do whatever you want," she cries. "Just leave her alone!"

You fucking hate it when she cries.

"You touch her again and…"

"And what, Rizzoli? You're in _NO_ position to do anything. So what'll it be? Work for me or watch me blow her brains out right here."

Before you can say another word, a loud commotion is heard upstairs and feet pound on the floor above you.

"What the fuck is going on?" Foreman exclaims. He motions towards the two dufuss guards and Littleton. "Go! Go check it out." He turns his attention back to you, he's rattled, you can tell. "What the fuck's going on? Who's upstairs?"

"I don't know," you lie. Your words are just above a whisper. You look at Maura who is struggling to stay alert. "What'd you give her?"

He smiles at you. "It's a secret recipe. Why? You want some? Huh?"

Every breath sends a stabbing pain up your side. "You're gonna pay for this," you slur. Your threat is an empty one, really. Here you are lying on a cold cement floor with your hands cuffed behind your back AND you're tied to a chair. You're pretty sure a rib or two is broken and that nagging wound in your side is bleeding freely. You've already tried to fight him and lost each time. But none of that matters because just issuing the threat makes you feel better.

You hear more commotion upstairs, bodies falling onto the hardwood floor, groans of pain and then it's quiet.

After a few minutes it's too quiet for Foreman's liking and he decides to go upstairs to check things out.

"Maura? M-Maura, look at me." She can hardly move because of her drug induced stupor. "That's it, look…look at me, baby. I need you to try and untie me. Can you do that?" Shit, even talking hurts.

"Jane…I…I don't know if…"

"Maura, please? We…there's not much time."

She slides over on the floor and tries to focus on the task at hand. "I…I don't think I can. It's too tight. I don't have…the strength."

"Dammit."

She moves closer to you and touches the side of your face. The contact feels like you're being electrocuted, in a good way. "Oh God, you're bleeding," she mumbles and then starts sobbing.

"No. No. Maura, don't cry. I'm okay."

You can hear Foreman shouting upstairs. "Come out you motherfucker! I know you're here."

With the stealth skills of a Ninja, Jack comes down the stairs and is by your side in seconds. "Rizzoli. Shit," she says as she gets a good look at you. It must not be good judging by the look on her face.

"Get these…off me. Get her out of here. I'll take care…of Foreman."

Jack turns her attention to Maura who is close to passing out.

"Maura, Jack. Jack, Maura."

"Wait. I thought..." Jack asks as she cuts the rope and then picks the lock on your cuffs.

"Long story, now get her out of here. I lost her once, I'm not gonna lose her again."

She looks at your wound and grimaces. "You're hurt. You can't take him on alone." She leans in closer to you. "You got this far for her, don't go and get yourself killed. Let me help."

"Get her out first. I…I need to know she's…she's safe."

Jack scoops Maura up. "I took care of them all. They should all be out for at least 24 hours. The only one left is Foreman. Here, take this." She hands you a Glock. "It's fully loaded so make 'em count."

You struggle to get to your knees, biting your lower lip against the pain. "Okay. Go!"

Jack heads up the stairs but you soon hear Foreman's voice.

"Uh uh. You're not going anywhere."

Jack comes back into the room and sets Maura down on the floor gently. "I'm sorry," she whispers to you.

"You!" Foreman shouts at Jack. "Slide over all your weapons and kneel down next to Rizzoli."

Jack kneels down. "Let Maura go first."

He laughs. "It doesn't work that way. She stays. Now hand over your weapons."

"Or what?" Jack taunts him.

You turn towards her and shake your head. You don't want her getting hurt in your fight. "Don't."

"This is definitely a friend of yours, Rizzoli." He steps closer towards Jack with his gun aimed at her. "Thought you said you were alone?" he says to you.

In a matter of seconds, Jack has him flat on his back and his gun shoved under his chin. "You pissed off the wrong people, asshole. Now, I'm gonna let Rizzoli here decide what to do with you."

You get up and find enough strength to cuff him as he had done to you. Then you shoot one of his kneecaps to make sure he doesn't move. You don't have the energy to taunt him like you wanted to.

Turning to Jack, you put a hand on her arm. "Take Maura outside and wait for me."

She nods and gathers Maura into her arms once again.

"Jane?" Maura mumbles.

"I'm right here. She's gonna take you outside. I'll be out in a minute." Leaning over, you kiss her on the cheek. "I love you." You nod for Jack to go.

"Aw, you're breakin' my heart, Rizzoli. Who knew you were a syrupy bitch that…"

You launch a fist at his face, hitting him square in the jaw. Blood and spit spew from his mouth. But you're not satisfied yet. You punch him several more times, knocking him out. Then you go several more after that until his eyes are so swollen he wouldn't be able to see you when he wakes from his shit-kicking. But he won't wake up because you aim your gun at him and hit him in the chest twice; his body twitching with each hit.

You drop to the ground in a sobbing heap, lost in the emotion of everything that has happened over the past year, not just the past few weeks.

Then you look at him, bleeding all over himself. You wipe away the tears and painfully stand up. "Burn in hell."

Staggering up the stairs, you finally make it outside where Jack is waiting for you. Her hands are on you to keep you upright and get you over to the car. "You okay?"

"I am now." She looks as you and asks if he's dead without really saying the words and you just nod. You start to fall forward. Luckily she is there to catch you.

"Whoa. Whoa." She lowers you to the ground so your back is leaning against the car and then does a more thorough inspection of your abdomen. "Come on. Let's get you in the car."

"Can't….my blood is in there. We have to…"

She looks you in the eye. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, the van as well. Let's just get you in the car first."

A flash of pain grabs hold of you and you can't help but cry out.

Jack wastes no time in loading you into the car next to Maura. You reach out and take Maura's hand just as you pass out.


	13. Chapter 13

As your world comes back into focus, you feel as if your right hand is trapped. Opening your eyes a little more, you realize it's safely nested inside Maura's.

Wait. Maura's?

The sight of her face looking down at you takes you aback.

"Jane," she says in a quiet and soothing tone.

You try to get up and soon regret the idea as your entire torso blazes with pain. "Jesus," you gasp, settling back down.

"No. Don't try to move. You need to stay put for a while." Her hand strokes the side of your face and you lean into it.

"Am…am I dreaming? You're not…not real." Your head feels cloudy and nothing seems to make sense no matter how hard you try to put the pieces together.

"Shhh, just rest. You rescued me, remember?"

For some reason you can't. Must be the drugs you're on. "No."

"We can talk about it later."

"How long…have I been here?"

"Three days. But don't worry about that right now. Just relax and rest."

You close your eyes and take a second to sift through the haze. Fragments of things flash through your mind but you're not quite sure they're in order of occurrence. Foreman's face pops into your mind and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Maura's soft hands are on you, holding you down. "Hey. Look at me. Jane? You're okay. Don't try to get up."

"Ffforeman."

She breaks eye contact with you, looking down at the bed. You start to remember bits and pieces of what he said and your heart breaks for her.

"He…he…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask it. "Are you…okay?"

A smile spreads across her face as she nods. "Your friend Jack has taken very good care of us since we've been here."

You shake your head because that's really not what you meant. "Did he…"

She shakes her head and squeezes your hand. "No. He said that to get to you. He hit me a few times and kissed me, but that was as far as it went."

Your eyes latch onto hers and don't let go. "Maura?"

Her hands land upon your cheeks as she cups your face. "I'm telling you the truth."

"But he…he drugged you. Hhhow are you sure?"

"He only drugged me before he brought me downstairs." She rubbed her face and ran her hands through her hair as she stood up. "He had me locked up in that house all this time." Her arms folded themselves across her chest and you can hear the emotion in her voice.

"Mmaura."

"I tried so hard to find a way to get to you, but he caught me every time and..." She looks at you and your eyes lock. "He said he'd kill you if I tried again."

Slowly, you reach out towards her. You want like hell to hug her and hold her but you'll have to settle for holding her hand right now.

"I…I stopped trying," she says as she tries to snuff away the tears. "I didn't want him to kill you." Her hand finds yours and squeezes it.

"He did kill me, in a way," you whisper. "Killed me that you…you were gone." You can feel tears rolling down your cheek and you swallow hard as pain creeps up on you. "Bad enough…we…we had that fight." You wince and close your eyes.

"Jane, let's not talk about that right now. We have plenty of time to talk and sort things out."

You hear a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," Maura responds.

Jack walks into the room. "How's our patient doing?"

"Just ducky," you say as you nearly bite a hole through your bottom lip.

She nods, not believing you.

"She just woke up a few minutes ago," Maura informs her. "I changed her bandage about an hour before she woke. Fever is gone and the wound doesn't look as red. She's still in a lot of pain."

"No, I'm not," you say.

Maura's head tilts to the side. "Jane."

You sigh and frown at the both of them.

"I'll bring in some more painkillers. Maura, can I talk to you outside for a second?"

Maura looks at you and then back at Jack. "Sure."

"No fair if you're talking 'bout me."

"Shut up and rest, Rizzoli," Jack says, throwing a smile at you.

They leave the room and you can't help but wonder what the hell's going on. After a few minutes you prepare yourself and somehow get yourself into a sitting position, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Your side throbs to the same beat as the one in your head and your vision swirls in front of you.

Closing your eyes, you steel yourself against the sensation and wait for it to pass. Breathing is another issue and you can't seem to do it without causing yourself a lot of pain. Your ribs and wound scream with each breath and nausea starts to creep up into your throat.

Opening your eyes, you manage to get a hold of yourself, but you aren't sure whether you'll be able to get far if you get to your feet.

Taking in a slow breath, you stand up and nearly double over as the pain gets worse. "Jesus," you gasp as you stay where you are and hope it too will pass.

The door opens and Maura enters, finding you standing there. Her eyes widen in horror. "Jane! What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

Jack soon enters behind her and now you have the two of them on each side of you guiding you back to bed.

"I wanna know what's going on," you say through a clenched jaw. Maura and Jack trade glances. "I'll get up again if…"

"Fine," Maura says as she checks your wound. "But you have to promise me you're not going to get upset."

"No, you can't say that and then expect me…"

"Jane." She says your name in a stern tone similar to a parent scolding a child.

"Alright I promise."

"I knew she was bad but is she always like this?" Jack asks as she prepares a syringe full of painkillers.

"Don't you dare stick me with that! Mauraaaa." She's unfazed by your trademark whine as she reseals the tape around your wound, satisfied that no damage has been done.

Maura takes your hand into hers and looks straight at you. "Jane. You're in pain and you need medication. Do not; I repeat, _DO NOT_ get up from this bed again unless I help you. Understand?"

You nod because it's all you can do.

Jack gives you some of the painkillers. Your distaste for needles grows by the day.

"Someone want to tell me what's going on before I pass out?"

Jack holds up a copy of the Boston Herald: Former BPD Detective Jane Rizzoli Wanted For Murder of Slain Mob Boss.

"What the fuck?" Your jaw nearly hits the floor. "How…wh…"

"Littleton. He got away that night and must have sung like a songbird to the cops."

"But…how did he get away?" You start to feel the tug of the painkillers and know that within a minute or two you'll be out cold.

"I don't know, when I went back to clean up he was gone."

You look over at Maura and her eyes begin to well up with tears. "Maura, can…you give me… a second with Jack?"

She nods and exits the room.

"Did you…you tell her…anything?"

Jack puts her right hand up. "Nothing. I told her that's a conversation that you two need to have."

You close your eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. "Good. Need to keep 'er safe," you slur as you drift off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's note:** **Not much going on in this chapter but I at least wanted to put to rest the idea that Maura might have been raped by Foreman. I do not write about such a topic in my stories so I wanted to make it clear that she was not. This was basically a chapter to settle them down before things pick back up again.  
**

Thank you to everyone that's stuck around with this one!


	14. Chapter 14

You're alone when you wake.

It takes you a few moments to put the pieces together and get back up to speed. And when you've got a grasp on everything that happened before life hit the pause button, you decide that getting up, even though you were told not to, is what you need to do.

It's a struggle but you pull it off. You feel slightly stronger than you did before but the pain is a constant nag and it takes everything you've got to tuck it away and focus on the task at hand.

Keeping your breathing as steady and even as you can, you shuffle yourself to the door, feeling victorious when you turn the handle and open it. There's no time for a victory dance, even if you could do one.

Leaning heavily on the doorframe, you gather your bearings and prepare to make the long walk down the hallway towards the kitchen where you hear Maura and Jack talking.

Tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, you begin the journey. Sweat starts to bead on your forehead when you reach the half way mark and a few join together and roll down the side of your face. This is when you question whether you should have listened to what Maura said and stayed put. But come on, you're Jane Rizzoli. You do what you want.

Taking as deep of a breath as you can, you stay close to the wall as you make your way towards the kitchen.

Maura is the first to spring out of her chair when she sees you enter the room. "Jane! What did I tell you about getting out of bed?" She mumbles something under her breath as she grabs your arm. You could have sworn you heard a few curse words tossed into the mix which means she's pissed.

Jack pulls out a chair by the table and Maura eases you down onto it before rushing off to the sink to wet a towel.

"You must drive her nuts, Rizzoli," Jack whispers to you as she sits next to you.

You smile and laugh, soon regretting it as it aggravates your injuries.

Maura returns with a damp hand towel and wipes it across your brow and face, mopping up the sweat, treating you like a child that's fallen out on the playground. "You're going to hurt yourself. What if you fell in the hallway? I don't even know how this all happened and…" She started to cry.

"Maura. Don't cry, sweetheart." You reach out to her but she pulls away.

"I want to know what happened," she says as she wipes away her tears. "I respect that Jack wouldn't tell me, but you're in trouble, Jane. They're out there looking for you. What the hell are we going to do now?" You can see the fear and panic in her eyes.

"It's okay. We're safe here," Jack tries to reassure her. "We will figure something out, don't worry."

Maura wraps her arms around herself and stands in front of you without saying a word. The silence hangs in the air for what feels like forever. The look on her face kills you and you're the first to break eye contact.

"I'll let you two talk. I'll be downstairs trying to get some info on what's going on out there."

"Thanks, Jack," you say, giving her a small smile.

Maura puts her hands out towards you. "Let's get you back to bed where you'll be more comfortable. And you need to eat something."

You don't dare argue and allow her to help you back to bed. She brings you breakfast and some coffee, which tastes like heaven. A piece of toast and half of an egg is about all you end up eating. Getting your gut kicked in doesn't leave you with much of an appetite.

Dragging the chair closer to your bed, Maura sits down and takes your hand into hers. "What's going on, Jane? How did all this happen?"

You lean your head back on the pillow and sigh. "After I was told you were dead, I turned in my badge not long after that. I couldn't go into work every day and not see you. I couldn't be reminded…" You feel the tears nagging at you and stealing your voice. Maura squeezes your hand.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you that day," Maura says, her own voice filled with emotion. "I thought more about it afterwards and before I could say something, the fire and…"

"I never stopped trying to find out who did it. From the moment it happened I started digging." Now you couldn't stop the tears and you didn't care. "And only until now was I able to find out who it was." You pause for a moment and take a breath, squeezing her hand tightly. "I…I umm..I did some things that I'm not proud of, things I normally wouldn't do, but I wanted to make them pay for what they did to you." You look right at her when you say it because you want her to understand that you'd do whatever it takes for her.

Maura's hand goes to her mouth because she knows what you were referring to. "Oh, Jane."

"I had to take them all out. What they did to you destroyed me and I wasn't about to let them get away with it."

"Is that how you got hurt?"

You nod and sniff away tears. "I climbed a fence and got stuck on some barbed wire." You watch Maura's face as she cringes. "I met Jack right after that."

"Are you two..."

"No. No."

"Because she's cute and your type." Maura laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

You laugh, welcoming the shift in the atmosphere, especially given what you just told her. "She saved my stupid ass."

"She told me she had to help you because you were wounded but wouldn't tell me what happened, no matter how much I pushed."

"I tried to do this on my own but it got so crazy. I hated Foreman's guts but he wasn't on my immediate list." You begin to tire but fight against it. "He killed Ian Murphy…before I could. That's what brought us to a confrontation…and…and all this." You wince slightly as your body tells you it's not happy with all this talking.

"Jane, we can talk later. Rest."

"It's okay. I'm fine. Just need a second." Closing your eyes you take a few breaths.

"Part of me wished that you'd find me but I knew that you didn't know I was alive. Still, I've always had that small glimmer of hope. It's what helped me get through each day."

You open your eyes and look at her. "I would have pushed harder if I knew you were alive."

"He locked me up there. I could go outside once in a while but there were always armed guards there." She stopped and sighed. "He threatened me, a lot. It was always towards you. He took most of my money, draining my accounts. He once showed me photos of a beaten woman that looked like you so I…I did whatever he wanted."

The thought made you angry and you wish you could kill him again.

"He wanted inside information about my father and I gave it to him; I had to. Because of it, many were killed." She threw her hands up. "Now I'm broke, supposed to be dead and the police want you for his murder."

"I'm guessing Littleton went to all the dirty cops he has in his pocket and they were quick to pin this on me."

"What do we do now?" She asks with concern.

You sigh heavily and shake your head. "I don't know."


	15. Chapter 15

Lowering yourself down onto the couch, you sit next to Maura who is watching TV. She quickly aims the remote at the TV and turns it off.

"Why'd you turn it off?"

"The news is on and…you're on it."

"Then turn it back on. I want to hear what they're saying."

She shakes her head. "Jane. I don't think that's a good idea. You're still recovering and don't need the added stress."

"Oh my God, are you serious right now? Added stress? Maura, I already know this is going on. I can't just hide here for the rest of my life. At some point I need to face this."

"See. This is what I mean," she says as she gets up and motions towards you. "You're getting angry and you're just going to hurt yourself."

Sighing heavily, you close your eyes. "I can handle this. It's fine."

"Stop it!" she snaps at you. "Enough with always saying that everything's 'fine'."

"Maura, come on," you say in a soft voice, trying to calm her.

"No. For once in your life, Jane Rizzoli, I want you to listen to me."

"Whoa. Where is this coming from?"

She looks at you, her arms wrapped around herself as she paces in front of you a few times before going to the window to stare out. Her head dips for a moment and you patiently wait for an answer.

"I'm sorry," she says before turning to look at you. She inhales and exhales in a sharp breath and you watch her shoulders sag. "I guess it's the traumatic stress that has gotten to me. One minute I feel happy, the next minute I'm sad, then I'm numb and now I'm just…angry."

You squeeze the bridge of your nose and get up. You need to put your arms around her and feel her body against yours. It's not sexual. You just need to hold her and make sure she knows you love her and are there for her.

Slipping your arms around her, you close your eyes as she sinks into you. "We've both been through a lot up to this point. We need to find the strength to get through this, Maura – together." You break your embrace and look her in the eye. "I love you more than you'll ever know and I wish like hell I could erase the past year." Reaching up, you swipe your thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear.

"I don't know how we're going to get out of this, Jane. I'm…I'm scared."

"Shhh, don't be." You envelope her once again, squeezing her as tightly as your battered body will allow. "We'll get through this no matter what."

"I don't want you to get hurt again." Her body starts to shake in your arms as she sobs. "It's happened too many times and I can't go through that again."

Moving away from her, you take her by the hand and lead her to the couch to sit. You kneel in front of her and take her hands into yours, kissing them. "None of us are going to get hurt, you hear me?"

She shakes her head. "You can't promise that."

"I have a plan. I talked to Jack about it briefly yesterday and she was going to come up with something to pull it off. I need to go downstairs and work on it with her so that we can end this once and for all." You reach up and stroke the side of her face. She leans her cheek into your hand and closes her eyes.

You study her face and how it's changed since you'd seen her a year ago. It's thinner and pale. The dark circles under her eyes age her but despite it all she's still your Maura. She's still sexy as hell and you don't regret one single thing you did that lead to getting her back.

Her eyes open and she looks at you. Your eyes lock and she leans down, putting her lips over yours in a heated kiss that makes your heart skip a beat. She cups your face and her touch ignites a fire in your belly that instantly turns you on. You wish you could rip her clothes off right there and have your way with her for hours, making up for all the time lost between you.

Her hand slides behind your neck as the kiss deepens, your tongues reacquainting themselves. But you break the kiss out of the need for air; a slight groan escapes your lips.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her eyes filled with worry.

You nod and give her a quick kiss. "Yeah, just…a little too intense," you say as you rub your side.

She shoots you a lop-sided grin and it does nothing to alleviate the pulsing between your legs.

Sitting on the couch next to her, you kiss her cheek and then nuzzle her neck. "I want you so fucking bad right now," you whisper in her ear before sucking on her pulse point.

"I want you too," she whispers back, her voice full of lust and need.

Your mouth finds hers again and then you slowly move away, resting your forehead on hers. "I hate to be a lady boner killer here, but I need to sort things out with Jack. After we're done, I promise I will take care of you." You smile at her and lick your lips.

"Promise?"

You nod and kiss the tip of her nose before getting up. "I'm gonna go take a cold shower first."

She giggles and you quickly leave the room before you change your mind.

* * *

When you get downstairs, Jack is already hard at work on her computer. Various images are up on the monitors and the latest news channel occupies a smaller screen on the desk.

"Okay, get me up to speed on what's happening."

"The chatter on the scanners have them looking all over for you but nothing's panned out so far. It was Littleton that dropped a dime on you. He's in protective custody and made a deal with some of those cops Foreman had working for him behind the scenes."

"Do you have a list of names?"

Jack turns towards you and nods. "I do."

You motion towards one of the monitors. "I want to see it, pull it up."

With a few keystrokes a list of names and faces appear on the screen. "I honestly didn't want to show you the list but at this point you need to know who the players are that are playing against you. They want your head on a silver platter and word on the street is that there's a huge payday for the one that turns your lights out."

You're relieved that no one in your inner circle is one of the names on the list.

"I don't know if I have all of the names but these are the ones that came up most frequently when I did a lot of digging and cashed in a few favors."

"I know all four of them but I don't know them that well. They work in other units."

"Detective Hudson and Meyers are the ones making the most noise out there on you, looks like they're the ones fighting between themselves to take you out."

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"What's the price on my head?"

"I heard a couple of numbers. It appears that the price goes up each day you continue to breathe. It was $500,000 but now it's $750,000." She types a few more keystrokes on the computer and bank statements come up on the screen. "Hudson seems to have already made quite a decent amount on the other side of the fence."

You look at the amounts and close your eyes, shaking your head. There were hundreds of thousands of dollars in his account. "That's definitely not a cop's salary."

You pace for a bit, ignoring the nagging pain in your side. "Did you think more about my plan? I think it's the only way out of this. If I try to go after them and it goes sideways, Maura will never forgive me. I can't lose her over this."

Jack swiveled around towards you in her chair. "I did think about it and I have part of it down, I just don't know how to seal the deal."

"Seal what deal?" Maura asked as she entered the room.

"Maura?"

"I want to know what you're planning. I want to help," she says as she walks closer to you. "I don't want you both to do this alone. You've already done enough."

You inhale and exhale sharply as you take her hands in yours. You glance at Jack and back to Maura as you prepare yourself to tell her. "I need you to trust me on this."

"Always."

"The only way to get out of this is for the two of us to...die."


End file.
